


In the Stone

by blackgrl71



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 88,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgrl71/pseuds/blackgrl71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of astounding historical events involving the Founders changes the lives of Faith, Willow, and Hermione – just in time to take on Voldemort. And if that's not enough, Faith is really a witch and related to the House of Black, Willow is connected to gods, and Hermione discovers she's no ordinary Muggle. Narcissa just needed an out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks to bearblue for keeping my muse engaged
> 
> N/A: Unfortunately, I don't own any characters or settings from the world of Harry Potter and Buffy – they belong to J.K. Rowling and Joss Whedon respectively
> 
> *I changed the Harry Potter timeline to the Buffy timeline – mostly because I couldn't stand the thought of leg-warmers and stone-washed jeans. I've also used the Half-Blood Prince, with Dolores Umbridge in charge of Hogwarts as the setting.
> 
> Summary: A series of astounding historical events involving the Founders changes the lives of Faith, Willow, and Hermione – just in time to take on Voldemort. And if that's not enough, Faith is really a witch and related to the House of Black, Willow is connected to gods, and Hermione discovers she's no ordinary 'muggle.' Narcissa is just needed an out.
> 
> A/N: Forgive any and all mistakes - they're entirely of my own making.
> 
> *Feedback is a little like smoking a joint after having spectacular sex - happy, content, (hungry) but wanting more, which means being motivated to write more... at least, that's what I've heard. :) So please don't hesitate to hit the REVIEW button.

**Prologue**

 

1015 A.D.

 

The severe-looking man was busy trying to calm the squalling newborn, while desperately trying to stem the tide of red flowing from between the woman’s legs. To add to this incredibly stressful scene, was the sound of objects pelting the small home, along with yells of outrage and madness from outside the humble abode. The only thing preventing the small horde of people from getting to the trio was the strong wards spelled by the two adult occupants in the room prior to the woman going into full labor.

The male attempted to cast another healing spell to no avail, wishing with all his heart that Helga was here to help them. Merlin, he wished any of his… friends were here to assist him. But Godric or Rowena would no doubt, hex him, if not worse. They’d had a terrible falling out over this incident. The fact that it was their daughter lying here, mayhap bleeding to death, would no doubt, increase their antagonism. Granted, he was… honest enough to know that he was not blameless in the events that created the rift between Godric, Rowena and him. This was made even worse when the woman lying on the bed chose him, instead of her parents. 

He was Salazar Slytherin and he had somehow fallen in love with the much younger off-spring of Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor. It should have never happened. They were three of the four powerful Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. The fourth was Helga Hufflepuff. Fractions grew due to their beliefs in who should be admitted into the school – Salazar believed in creating a school for pure-bloods. The others disagreed. But they never appreciated how the non-magical, the Muggles would stop at nothing to persecute anything or anyone they did not understand.

Helga, the peacemaker of the four founders, and the only one who still spoke to Salazar would often say, “Careful Salazar. The qualities feared in another, may one day find their way within one’s own character.”

But Salazar dismissed such concerns and remained steadfast in his belief that magical beings were far superior to their Muggle brethren. It was the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor who began to chip away at his beliefs. Unlike her more selfish and jealous sister, Helena Ravenclaw – whose father was still unknown, Cassiopeia Faith Gryffindor-Ravenclaw was kind, generous, and fiercely loyal, with an intelligence to match her mother’s. Known as Faith, she also inherited Godric’s more nauseating attribute – bravery. That bravery caused Faith to stumble into Salazar’s life, completely upend it, challenge him at every turn, using humor and compassion to disarm him, until he broke just enough to fall in love with her.

She’d tore down the steadily building barriers that had turned him into a cold, seemingly unfeeling wizard, filled with enduring hatred and prejudice. But these barriers had also created a lonely existence, except for the occasional pure-blood sycophant hoping to gain favor. Naturally Godric forbid their friendship and just has predictably, Faith ignored him. Rowena was busy fighting an illness, while hoping her other daughter would return. The rumors are that Helena betrayed her, but Rowena denies it at every turn, and Faith remained completely silent on the issue. But Salazar didn’t miss the look of anger and sadness, the look of betrayal on her face whenever Helena’s name was mentioned.  It was for these reasons that Faith did not tell her mother about the nature of her relationship with Salazar or the subsequent pregnancy.  When she began to show, she used a powerful charm spell to hide her bigger stomach and other signs of the pregnancy.

Helga knew of course, but Faith swore her to secrecy. It didn’t prevent her from tearing a strip from Salazar’s hide.  Merlin smiled on them regarding Faith’s father; Godric had taken to leaving for months at a time when school was not in session. Salazar was secretly not as confident that he would have been triumphant if he had to duel Godric.

When Helena found out about Faith and Salazar she became enraged and used dark magic as an attempt to erase her existence from the family books and history. But in her rage, the spell was mishandled and instead caused what should have been a fairly routine birth, to suddenly become fatal. Yet the gods smiled on them when the child was born – a daughter, before Faith completely succumbed to blood-loss. However, the spell did cause Godric, Rowena, Helga to forget powerful Cassiopeia Faith Gryffindor-Ravenclaw. The memories seeped from their brains, wispy trails of curled up in the air high above, before coming together to look like a small cloud. It continued to move until it found an object, deep inside Hogwarts. The cloud hovered above the object until it began to swirl faster and faster, forming a funnel into the object, filling it completely before settling like a serene silver liquid.

Two elves stared at one another, communicating silently, until one nodded, carefully picked up the object, snapped its finger until the elf, along with the object disappeared, never to be seen again. At least until **_She_** appears to collect her legacy. As for Salazar, before the spell hit him, he was holding his squirming daughter in one arm, the minutes-old witch was unleashing an impressive array of incidental magic upon the small holding, and he was also trying and failing to save his love. He knew. He knew he was losing her. Suddenly as if hearing from a long distance, he realized that Faith had been trying to call his attention to her.

“Salazar. Li-listen my love…”

Tears filled his jade-green eyes, as he stared with love and the beginnings of grief at the dying mother of his child. “Shh, shhh. Save your strength… Faith.”

A shaking, elegant hand lifted from the bed to gently cup his cheek, brushing her fingertips against his bearded jaw. “You must promise something Salazar. I do-… I don’t have much time.”

“No! Please, don’t go.”  
  
“Listen to me. Promise me to never give up on humanity”

“Let us not talk about such things right now. You have- “  
  
“Just promise me you won’t give up on them. Please.” Cupping his large hand around hers, holding it against his face, as he turned his head to lay a kiss on her palm.

“Ok, my love. No-,” but she cut him off.

 “This ne—“ Faith took a minute to gather herself. She could feel the Veil calling to her and something else… something dark. She had to hurry.

“This next promise must be Unbreakable, Salazar.” At this he attentively listened. “You must hide Faith. I fear for her, fear for our line. She is the culmination of the great Founders, with Helga as her godmother. Make her line matriarchal. Hide, but protect her. Can you do this for me? For her?”

Faith was a powerful witch; she was also a powerful seer. Unless necessary, she often did not reveal her visions because these were dark times, with very little good news to impart. These were times of nation-building, war, famine, and suffering.  So when she requested something due to a feeling or something else, it was wise to listen. And since this included his daughter, he would do whatever Faith asked. However, hiding Faith meant hiding her from even him. Even though he has daughter instead of son, he could no less look after her.

Still holding her hand, he lowered their hands, turned her hand over until he could clasp it, and entwined their fingers. Pointing his wand where their wrists touched, he muttered a spell, a glowing white rope appeared, wrapped itself around their wrists while Faith repeated her request, cementing his acquiescence into an Unbreakable Vow.

When the spell was completed, Salazar leaned down, gently kissed her lips. “I will love you here and in the ever-after, always.” He promised as his tears splashed onto her face. He brought the now silent baby-infant closer to her mother, who looked out at her with clear, brilliant lavender-colored eyes.

Faith gently stroked the fine down of dark hair, kissing her soft cheek. “I love you my little one. Ours will be a great line. Ours will be the line that will eventually save the Wizarding world from itself.”

The darkness Faith had been fearing grew nearer. “Take her Salazar. She will be a Ravendor, her middle initial S. Name her. Name her well.” Suddenly she gasped, her eyes widened as the spell and death began to grip hold.

“Faith!” The baby began crying in earnest once again. “Faith, her name will be Athena. Athena S. Ravendor. And she will know her mother.” He lifted his wand once again, muttered a spell and a blue light, followed by sparkles danced over the baby’s skin. When it finished along the little girl’s thigh, in tiny, green, elegant, cursive lettering was the name S. Ravendor.   
  
He could only watch helplessly, as those beautiful eyes grew dim, the light leaving them. She whispered, “Thank you.” And she grew still.

But before he could give over to grief, that same darkness took hold of him too, rendering him momentarily light-headed. When he came to, he confusingly stared at the squalling child in his arms.  He looked around seeing the smashed or overturned furniture and other items. However it was the beautiful woman lying before him, who had obviously recently given birth to this infant in his arms that captured his attention. Briefly touching his fingers to her cheek, he realized that she must have just passed this life since her skin was still warm to the touch.

Gently rocking the infant in his arms, he desperately tried to remember who she was or what he was doing here.  He gently reached over for a blanket and covered her, but not before staring into her face one last time, feeling as if something stood right at the edge of his memories that connected her to him. Once he covered her, he stood up walked over to a window, and saw a crowd of Muggles trying to get past the wards set on the property. He sneered.

 _Muggles_ , he thought with disdain.

He lifted his wand and was about to unpleasantly hex them before something… made him pause. He looked down at the baby and realized she was no longer crying. He felt a strong connection and sense of protectiveness towards her. The magic emanating from her was very powerful; one of the most powerful he’d ever felt. _Pureblood naturally_ , he thought with some smugness. He gave his wand another wave, restoring the contents of the house back to order, and then he sent a _Patronous_ to Helga, asking her to come quickly. 

In the meantime, he conjured up some milk, and set a fire on to warm it up. He gently laid the child on the nearby wooden table, carefully unswaddled her from the blanket before noticing a magical tattoo along her leg. _S. Ravendor_ it read.  It must be her family name. He frowned wondering what the S stood for. He wracked his brain, trying to remember recent events and could only determine that somehow an _Oblivate_ spell must have been cast. He was going to have to come up with a name and then make arrangements for her care. After a few moments, some of it spent dispersing the tiresome crowd in front of the house. There was also a strong sense that not only did he have to arrange for the child’s care, but that her destiny did not lie with him. She must be an important pureblood if she a landed in his care. Severe features softened as he once again, stared down at the cherubic features, watching as the girl gripped his finger, and attempted to place it her mouth. He never realized that his face was wet with tears, nor could he determine why he had this empty ache inside him, mostly because of the tiny being currently in his care.

Perhaps, he’ll call her… Athena. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Finishing Up Important Business...**

Present Day

  
The Slayers watched as the ground seemed to rush towards the rapidly expanding hole in the ground and while they were also anxiously watching Buffy running towards the slowly rumbling school-bus, Faith began to feel lightheaded. Something felt... _off_ since Willow did The Spell, while the lightheadedness could be explained by stress and from essentially engaged in an extended-life-threatening combat, there was a sense that it wasn’t. The dizziness increased, causing her to swallow the slight nausea, cold sweat broke out along her forehead and neck.

When Buffy finally made it onto the bus, the loud rumbling of the schoolbus was smothered by the sound of Sunnydale caving in on itself. If Faith didn’t have the overwhelming urge to lie down, she knew she’d be watching the results of their world-saving results. But the grayness grew, blackness creeping along the edges of her consciousness, causing her to lay her head back onto the seat, blocking out the sounds. Her eyes closed as she lost complete consciousness, not hearing Dawn call out to her in concern.

After ensuring that Buffy made onto the bus, Dawn’s attention was caught by Faith, who had ignored Robin bleeding out onto the front seat, as she quietly made her way to the last seat, her skin growing paler. She grew more concerned as Faith simply laid her head back and closed her eyes, not even responding to her calls of concern. When her sister finally reached her, Dawn switched her concern from Faith to Buffy due to the wound in her stomach.

Scooting over in her seat, she prodded Buffy to sit, while calling up front to have Rona pass their rapidly depleting medical supplies. Holding a towel over Buffy’s wound, she snuck another look at Faith, and seeing the rise and fall of her chest, she chocked Faith’s behavior to passing out from exhaustion. So she returned her attention to her sister.

“Buffy… are you ok?” She was scared because their relationship had been… dicey ever since they essentially kicked Buffy out. The guilt sometimes overwhelmed her and the fact that there’d been a significant chance that Buffy might’ve died today, without her having ever pled for forgiveness, made her feel even worse.

She began dabbing at the wound with gauze, carefully watching for any unusual signs of pain – other than the obvious. “Aside from the gaping hole in my stomach, I’m peachy with a side of keen,” she wearily responded.

She watched as her sister laid her head back, closing her eyes, occasionally flinching when Dawn prodded a particularly tender area. “Buffy?”

Dawn waited until those green eyes focused on her. The fact that those eyes were guarded pained her more than she could ever imagine. Dawn looked down, taking a moment to collect herself, before taking a deep breath and finding Buffy’s eyes once again. “I… messed up…,” she swallowed thickly, feeling the sting of salty tears threatening to spill over. “I’m so, so sorry.” Dawn could feel her lip quivering. “I let you down when you needed me the most.”

She looked down at her hands, one with gauzes stained with Buffy’s blood, driving in the guilt, deepening it, making it a rancid mix inside her. “We… we—I- I got caught up…  the… stress, my general immaturity…” she trailed off, knowing nothing could excuse her behavior. “But I-I-I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make it up to you.” Gathering her courage she stared into her sister’s eyes again. “Nothing. I mean nothing will ever make me choose anyone else over you again and I’ll never, ever give up on you.”

What Dawn didn’t know was that Buffy was feeling two conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she knew she couldn’t continue to watch her sister prostrate herself—out of everyone else, Dawn was still a kid, not even a Slayer, who’d been handed a raw deal. But at the same time Buffy was angry.  Dawn was family, made from her blood, if **anyone** was gonna have her back it should’ve been her. And while Dawn was still a kid, she was also played at being responsible enough to make her own decisions and to own those decisions.

“You hurt me the most Dawnie. After you… there is no one else. Family that is. We’ve always had each other, even when we were tearing each other’s hair out.” However the simmering anger and betrayal wearily died down as she watched the fat tears of sorrow and guilt roll down Dawn’s face.

Enough people have been hurt and she certainly didn’t want to be responsible for continuing to hurt Dawn. Not after everything they’d been through. “But I love you, always will, and we’ll get past this.”

Buffy painfully and slowly lifted her arm to give Dawn a half-hug, causing the teen to turn her head into Buffy’s shoulder. “And if you promise me to no longer wear my favorite pair of boots, I’ll even forgive you.”

Letting out a watery laugh Dawn responded. “I think I can do that.” She went silent for a moment. “I love you too Buffy.” 

 

 

* * *

**Road to Recovery**

Meanwhile everyone else was either frenetically jabbering away as the new Slayer-energy roiled in their blood, others were busy assisting the wounded, Xander remained stoic as the grief from Anya’s death coursed through him. Giles was trying to find the nearest medical facility as he drove. Willow, exhausted physically, yet also felt weirdly energized. She suspected it had something to do with The Spell. She hadn’t had a chance to mention it, but along with Calling forth every potential Slayer, she also felt a… shift, like a dam blown open. It had almost caused her to lose her concentration because the magical feedback was so intense, but Willow wasn’t potentially the most powerful witch in the world for nothing. It also helped that the Scythe helped to center her when she desperately needed it. Currently she was sitting with Kennedy, trying to meditate. She’d already instructed Andrew to find a motel and food for everyone, once they made a stop at the closest medical clinic or hospital. Willow had already put in a call to Angel to help them once they arrived in Los Angeles.

Through all the madness no one noticed that Faith had fallen unconscious, or the noticeable twitch, and tiny sparks emanating from her core. At least no one noticed her until the feedback from those sparks reached Dawn’s magic. Frowning, Dawn kept feeling tiny… shocks like you get from wearing fuzzy socks that rub against the floor and then you touch someone nearby, sometimes creating static electrical shocks. She looked around when the next shock was a little harder, causing her own hum of magic to twitch.

Buffy’s hand shifted to Dawn’s knee in concern. “What’s wrong? Why are you sparking?”

Dawn looked down and confirmed Buffy’s observation. “What?! Whoa! I have no idea.”

She wildly looked around until her eyes landed on Faith. Her alarm grew as she saw that the only other Chosen Slayer in the world was still unconscious even though her body jerked and shuddered while green sparks intermittently flew from her body. Shaking Buffy’s body, she jerked her head in Faith’s direction. “Look! It’s Faith!”

When Buffy saw her Sister-Slayer she quickly stood up only to be reminded of her injury. Holding the bandaged wound, she yelled out, “Will, ummm… can you come here please?!”

The urgency from Buffy’s voice had everyone looking at the back of the bus, while Willow rushed from the seat towards Faith, with Kennedy following her.  Giles could only try to look in the mirror while trying to navigate the yellow bus, Xander barely moved. Buffy and Willow shared a look as they cautiously approached Faith.   
  
“Ahh, Will? You feelin’ anything?” Buffy inquired.

Shifting closer to Faith, Willow’s hand hovering inches above Faith’s body, she closed her eyes, centering herself, seeking, searching… until she virtually collides with another’s magic. Different magic, old, not Willow’s kind of magic, but still powerful magic. When she opened her eyes, Faith still unconscious, having no idea of the crowd hovering over her, her once pure white eyes, now shifting back to green widened in stunned surprise. Buffy, seeing the look on her friend’s face grew even more concerned.

“What?! What’s wrong with Faith?”

Shaking the dizziness from her head, yet still buzzing from connecting to this new… Well ‘new’ for Willow, magic, she refocused on Buffy. Taking a deep breath, Willow dropped a… surprise. “Ummm… well technically nothing is wrong…”

Buffy had always been impatient, Dawn even more so. “Will- ,” they started in exasperation.

Willow pointed towards to sparks flying from Faith. “Those are magic sparks. I mean that it appears that Faith… has magic.”  
  
Silence met that statement, Buffy frowned in confusion. “Umm, Will, you **_do_** know Slayers don’t have magic? At least nothing I’ve ever heard of.” Redirecting her attention to Faith, Buffy followed up with, “And Faith definitely has no magic.”

Willow began wringing her hands. “Actually, that’s not totally true. There have been reports of one Slayer… or two,” she frowned, trying to remember, “or was it four… Anyways, there have been unconfirmed reports of Slayers throughout history imbued with magic.” Frowning, Willow concentrated on Faith’s core. “But… not like this.”

Surprised, Buffy certainly didn’t know anything about Slayers with magic, seemed she would’ve remembered something about that, especially during all their hours of research. Although to be fair, Buffy usually skipped out on the Scoobies’ research parties. She was an ‘action girl’ after all. “What do you mean ‘not like this?’”

“This is strong. I mean the magic is strong and… it’s intrinsic.”

At this point Dawn chimed in. “I don’t think that matters – this is Faith. What do you mean that’s her magic?! How?”

Willow shrugged helplessly. “I wish I knew.”

At this point the bus finally rumbled to a stop in front of a clinic. Giles, wearily and painfully got up from his seat, while Andrew directed volunteers to help the injured into the clinic. Giles finally made his way to the back of the bus; Dawn took a few moments to explain their latest sort-of-crisis. Removing his glasses to polish them with a slightly dirty cloth before replacing them on his head, he gently pushed his way next to Willow. But not before instructing Dawn to help a protesting Buffy into the clinic to have her wound examined.

When Giles saw the color of the sparks and that they seemed to be emanating from Faith’s core, over her belly-button, he paled. There are various forms of magic-users in the world; the Council had varying _relationships_ with these magical communities; some of these relations were polite, others, given the Council’s penchant for arrogance and ruthlessness, other relations were slightly hostile. However, in exchange for discreet assistance for demon-troubleshooting, these communities handed over any potential Slayers throughout the years. Luckily these Slayer-Witches were very rare, a once-in-a-few-lifetimes thing, which was good when dealing with a group like the former Council. Giles was never privy to what became of these young girls once the Council had access to them; all that information remained top-secret. But knowing what he knows now about what the Council and men like Travers, it’s a safe assumption that these potential Slayer-Witches were not positively utilized. Perhaps something worse would befall these young women if things did not go “according to Council plans.”

But if what he was suspecting was correct, he would need to find any and all remaining Council records soon to assist Faith. And he was determined to do so; he failed her once before, he would not do so again. However, the other issue he might have to worry about is that similar to a beacon, Faith’s… newly released magical core would gain attention, and he would need to ensure her safety in that regard. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Somewhere in England - Scotland to be More Precise**

 

A couple months later, Faith, Giles, Buffy, Dawn, Xander, Rowena head of the local Coven, and Willow sat in the newly-erected Council conference room – which, to Giles’ exasperation, looked like a cross between a library with an office, and a game-room. A huge octagonal room; complete with a large desk, strewn with paperwork, knick-knacks, a small pile of books, and framed pictures of the Scoobies in some of their happier moments in Sunnydale.  A huge u-shaped sofa, complete with a large, heavy oak table, laden with more papers, laptops, tablets, heavy tomes, files, an occasional paper airplane, bottles of water, Mountain Dew, a teapot, and a various selection of Scooby snacks.  A large fireplace dominated the room, the smell of applewood and Fall stained the air from the homey lit fireplace, along with a huge 76-inch flat-screen television, complete with a game console.

The castle was a bit of find – once they (Willow) cracked the Council accounts and discovered not only an obscene amount of money, but other estates still left untouched by the First. It was one of these estates, left in somewhat disrepair that they declared for themselves as their headquarters. Needless to say, it made them all so very angry knowing that the former smug bastards ensconced themselves in bigger, luxurious accommodations in London while Buffy and Faith struggled so very hard. In fact, it was one of their oldest estates. At the moment they were unraveling Faith’s background and her growing accidental magic.

So far, she’d blown up a number of things: from vases, to mirrors, set off car alarms, or whole packs of beer – much to her dismay. That episode had sent Faith to hide-out in her room, before sneaking out to the countryside where she thought no one could be accidentally hurt. Unfortunately her anger caused the ground to suddenly rise up, shudder, and settle as dirt and debris showered her. Faith was at her wits end. She sincerely hoped that what G-Man and Red would be able to help her soon. She was becoming a danger to everyone. When Giles, Willow, and Rowena – Head of the local Devonshire Coven, suggested temporarily binding her magic, something inside Faith railed against it, until all the objects in the room lifted, spun, darted, causing everyone to duck.

“I take it you’re against that idea?” Xander wryly asked after he picked himself off the ground.

Snaking a frustrated hand through her hair, Faith replied. “It’s just that people’ve been messing with me all my life, I’m kinda not interested in more crap. I just… I just need to know what the fuck-all is goin’ on. Ya know?”

“Faith I realize—,” his words were cut off when a knock on the door interrupted them, followed by Kennedy sticking her head in.

“Ah, Giles are we expecting any guests?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Are you sure it’s not the pizza guy?”  After all, Slayers loved their pizza thought Dawn.

“Well, it’s somebodies by the name of Ravendor. And they want to see Faith.”

At this point everyone looked at Faith who held her hands up in bewilderment. But Rowena and Giles shared a look, even paled a bit. “Please escort them to our guest lounge and we’ll be there in a moment.”

“Sure thing.” And with that she went to collect their unannounced guests.

Willow saw the looks shared between her mentor and Giles. “Ok, what’s going on? Do you know these people?”

Giles began commencing with his habitual glass-wiping routine he did mostly under stress. Clearing his throat he answered. “Yes, well the Ravendors are a very old family from the States.”

“Like how old? And what do they want with Faith?” Buffy chimed in. She’d been hoping for a long-awaited respite following the demise of the First, but the crisis involving Faith concerned her. She’d failed her many times before, so she was determined to be there for her now.

Buffy was still getting used to the new physical changes in her friend. When Willow ran her version of a magical diagnostic, not only did Faith’s magic become unbound, but her real physical appearance, which had been hidden due to a powerful glamour spell, made itself known. The changes were not hugely different, just noticeable to those who know her.

She was taller, now practically towering over Buffy, her cheekbones were more defined, and her hair became an onyx-color you can only find in a bottle, instead of the sable-color. But it was her eyes that were the most noticeable. Instead of the dark-brown color they’d all become accustomed to, one eye was now a lavender color, while the other became as black as her hair. However she was still Faith - dimples, magic, and all.

This time it was the soft-spoken Rowena her responded. “Very old. And they did not originate in the States, but here in Britain. We can only speculate that they’re here about Faith’s magic.”  Although what they’d want with Faith regarding her magic was beyond her… unless Faith was connected to them.

This time Giles directed his attention to his other Slayer. While Buffy will always remain his first Slayer, he’d eventually realized that he’d been gifted with two Slayers, and they would always remain **his** Slayers. He looked out the group of young people and also realized that they’d become his children as well, and he loved them as if they were from his own blood.

Very gently he asked, “Faith do you recall anything about your family, your mother.” He hastily added when Faith’s countenance darkened, “aside from the… unfortunate parts.”

Running a hand through her thick curls, she tried to stem the emotional reaction of trying to remember anything other than the badness about her mother. “Well, I can tell you her name was… Elaine. But everyone called her Marnie.” She frowned as she tried to remember more details, which had been appearing with more regularity. “There was a man who used to come around when I was real young… this is before her usual asshole boyfriends. But this guy with shoulder-length dark hair, would bring me a toy when visited.”

Unbeknownst to her, she gave a small smile as she remembered this man throwing her in the air, tickling her, making her giggle. She remembered… happiness. “His name was Reg or Reggie something. He made me laugh. My mom too.” She dipped her head, trying to quell the emotions. “And then he didn’t come around no more and my mom never laughed again.”

She walked over towards the window as more memories spilled in. “There were these bitches. One was kinda fat and stout, the other was lean and mean; they were wicked scary – at least to a five year-old. Wore lots of black. She and my mom got into it in the parking lot. I remember she called us ‘trash.’” Solemn eyes stared at the silent, sympathetic group. “Guess we made an impression even then.”  
  
A voice sounded out. “And she was wrong. Very wrong.” Heads whipped around to take in the impressive, regal, silver-haired woman, with unusual lavender eyes. Those eyes grew watery until a fat tear rolled down an elegant cheekbone. “Faith.” she whispered. “I thought we’d never find you.”

A tall, distinguished male stood next to her, his hand protectively held onto her upper-arm. Tearing her eyes briefly from Faith, she looked at the assembled group. “I’m very sorry but we’ve waited years to find her, I simply could not wait another moment.” Her attention immediately returned to the Slayer. The male handed over a handkerchief, which she waved away. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

Faith defensively crossed her arms underneath her breasts. “Look lady I don’t know you. You’re gonna have to give me a clue.”

“Forgive me my manners. My name is Helena Ravendor and this is my son, Edison Ravendor.” She walked closer to Faith, sadly watching as Faith’s body-language indicated the need for space and protection. “I am your grandmother and this is your uncle, and we have been looking for you for a very, very long time.”

Faith grew angry. “That’s bullshit! No one came looking for me. When mom was… died, I stayed in shitty group-homes for fucking months, and no one came looking for me!”

Helena held up her hands, pleading. “Faith you must understand that there were other… forces at work. You were spelled to disappear, to be invisible! And by the time we reached that last group home you were already gone, with no way to find you!”

At this point, the Scoobies and Giles shared a look. _The Watchers’ Council._ Clearing his throat, Giles stood up to greet their guests. “Please, have a seat. My name is Rupert Giles, this is Rowena Haversham from Devonshire, and this Buffy Summers, her sister Dawn, Xander Harris, and Willow Rosenberg –“

“You’re the one responsible for that spell three weeks ago?! The Ministry has been in an uproar over it.” Edison broke in.

Willow blushed and gave a small wave in greeting. “That would be little ol’ me.”

“Well ‘little ol’ you,’ thank you. You broke the binding that hid Faith from us for years.” She once again redirected her attention towards Faith, who was now scowling at her.

Sighing, she walked even closer, laying a gentle hand on the Slayer’s arm. “Believe me Faith, we tried everything. But just when we thought we were close, yet somehow… disappeared.”

“It was powerful magic. Dark magic. The kind where the backlash would have been significant enough to cause irreparable, if not fatal damage.” Again, her eyes watered, tears making tracks down her face. Faith looked so much like her daughter. There wasn’t a day when she didn’t regret the harsh words spoken between them, particularly when she’d learned of Elaine’s death. “But we never gave up. Ever! Please believe me.”

“Then why didn’t mom tell me about you?”

Sighing again, Helena walked to stand next to Faith, to stare out at the rolling countryside. “We had a terrible row. Things were said, terrible things that could never be taken back. And your mother… she was stubborn.” This time it was Willow and Xander that shared a perceptive look; like mother, like daughter. “She was determined to make it on her own. But then… she fell in love.”

This time it was Helena’s countenance that darkened. “Your father… belonged to a unique… family. One I would have done much to stay away from. The Blacks.”

Frowning, Faith remembered another scene. “Reggie… Black? That was his name wasn’t it? I remember him saying ‘you’ll always be a Black.’”

“Yes, that is your father’s name. Reggie, short for Regulus Black. He emphasized his family name thinking it would provide some benefits because he was unaware of your mother’s lineage.”

All this information was becoming overwhelming for Faith. She wanted to run from the room and keep running until the tightness that had taken up shop inside her chest finally eased. She had family; like major family. When Helena realized that her granddaughter began looking a bit frantic she stepped back to find her way to a seat. Her mother was just like her; needing space and time to process things. If she could get away with it, she’d gather Faith up in a hug she so desperately wanted to provide. But she knew it wouldn’t be welcomed yet.

Buffy stood up to walk over to her Sister-Slayer. Gently holding her upper-arms, compassion and sadness echoed across her face. “You ok? Wanna go for a walk? I can see you need a break.”

It broke her a little when she saw Faith’s eyes swell with tears; once again objects in the room began rising along with her emotions. Edison walked closer, holding up his hands. “Faith, I need you to watch my hands. It’ll help calm down the incidental magic.” He did a series of rhythmic movements with his hands until, counting each movement starting with: “one by one, two by two…” until he came to five, only to be interrupted by Faith.

“Five by five.” Edison encouragingly smiled at Faith’s bewildered look.

“I remember… from my mom. She used to play this game with me.” She shook her head, before hastily continuing on her need to leave the room. As she opened the door she was stopped by Helena’s voice.

“Let’s get outta here.” Faith locked eyes with the woman who was her grandmother. Her one lavender eye similar to Helena’s matching set; Faith doesn’t trust very easily and so far, it sounded like there were even more people who’d had a hand in messing with her without her permission. She also learned that no one did anything for free; someone always wanted something. She just couldn’t figure out what Helena’s game was… or if she had one.

“Look, I gotta take a walk –“

Nodding, Helena understood. “I understand. Perhaps when you’re ready we can talk later.” She paused for a moment, wanting to ensure her granddaughter that she was not leaving her.  “Faith, I’ll be here when you return. Baring death or magical interference, you’ll never be without your family again.” She watched as Faith paused, her face turned away, nodded once, and then left the room with Buffy following behind her.

Sighing, Helena seemed to fold in on herself. Edison consolingly patted her shoulder as he stood next to her. “We should call the rest of the family, notify Grigotts, as well as both the American and British Ministries.”

“I assume you mean to introduce Faith to the Wizarding community?” Giles inquired.

“As much as I’m reluctant to do so, Faith is part of a very… important family, one, many interested parties would be interested in, and even worse, perhaps manipulate for their own purposes. It’s for her protection.” Helena was also aware of the troubles brewing here in England. The same troubles that brought the Wizarding community to war decades ago; so many friends, even a few family members were killed as a result. Bloody Voldemort! Why no one thought to ensure he was destroyed, both magical and mundane means, when they had the opportunity was beyond her.

Then there was the half-wit Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who has continued to employ well-known Death Eaters! However, the most grievous insult was having a well-documented Voldemort sympathizer take over Hogwarts! Her ancestors were surely rolling in their graves. Speaking of which, they’ll need to collect important family heirlooms before they fell into the wrong hands. In addition, they’ll need to hire private tutors to assist Faith’s magical learning.

However any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of pecking on a nearby window and when they looked, they saw a beautiful gold and white feathered owl, with large silver eyes, and an envelope in its beak. Edison and her shared a look, Helena sighed internally – the British Ministry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Finding Faith...**

When Giles saw the parchment in its beak, he paled. Quickly removing his glasses to begin wiping their lenses before replacing them back on his head, he watched as Willow approached the window, with Xander protectively following her. She looked over in Giles and Rowena’s direction, seeing their nod of approval she cautiously opened the window. The bird chirped, hop-flew inside the room before landing in front of Mrs. Ravendor. Her expression indicated distaste rather than surprise.  
  
Wide-eyed, Willow watched as the bird leaned its head out towards Helena, indicating that it wanted her to take the envelope. Helena flickered her gaze around to first Edison, and then Giles and Rowena, who were still looking equally wide-eyed, until Giles removed his glasses again. Helena gingerly reached towards the bird, marveling at its beauty, and held out her hand, palm up as the bird deposited the envelope in her hand.  She gently stroked the down along its head, the bird chirped again, and then took off towards the window, leaving its audience behind.  
  
“I take it by your expressions that you have some idea what this is about?’ Giles asked.  
  
“Indeed. The moment we land on British soil, the Ministry is notified. Chances are the current arse- Fudge is seeking a meeting.”  
  
Meanwhile Willow was wondering how she was never told about a Wizarding World. And they have schools! She noticed that Faith’s uncle, Edison was staring at her. “If you are wondering why you were never invited to a Wizarding school, it probably has something to do with you growing up on the Hellmouth.”  
  
“Yes, well, when a witch or wizard grows up on the Hellmouth, it hides them from Wizarding Authorities or magic,” Giles followed.  
  
However, Willow frowned. “But… you knew about it.” Willow didn’t want to jump to conclusions, which might lead to anger, even betrayal. Because they had enough… disillusion and mistrust between them.  
  
This time Giles sighed, hoping to avoid this conversation. How could he begin to explain that the old Watcher’s Council prohibited any contact with the Wizarding World, and since Willow was an integral part of the Slayer’s team, the Council ‘claimed’ her as theirs. It wasn’t until during Willow’s recovery at the Coven that he learned that _they_ had… plans for Willow. She was too powerful for the Ministry to not coerce her to be involved with their organization – or more like too powerful for them not to use and manipulate. And if they couldn’t get her cooperation, they’d see her as a threat, and act accordingly.   
  
“You must understand, the Council would have never allowed you to become a part of that world. In addition, I was afraid what their authorities would do to you once it was revealed about your actions regarding… Tara.”  
  
“What are you saying Giles?” Dawn had been quietly watching the proceedings, processing what was being said, and what wasn’t being said. “Are you saying that might have… **done** something to Willow?”  
  
“Considering what has happened to Faith, the fact that you may very well be the most powerful wandless-witch we’ve seen in ages, it is logical to assume that the Ministry could not be counted on to act in your best interests. Your Council certainly didn’t.” At that, Helena leveled a considering glare at Giles, who once again, removed his glasses for polishing.  
  
“But you must tread lightly here. Britain’s Ministry has been compromised by those with a more… repressive agenda, motivated by blood-status and fear.”  
  
“However their ignorance is our advantage. While we have a… tentative alliance with the Wizarding World, they do not consider Wiccan magic an equally valid form of magic. Hence the reason you were able to heal with our Coven unmolested.” Rowena paused, letting that bit of information sink in. “It is also likely that they were unaware that it was a powerful Wiccan, wandless witch who was responsible for that incident.” She stood up.  
  
“I must go and call an official Coven meeting. If we are about to tangle with the British Ministry, they’ll need to be prepared.” She nodded at Helena and Edison. “It was truly a pleasure to finally meet you. Please pop over soon. I gather we have much to talk about.”  
  
Helena stood up and walked over to Rowena, capturing her hands in hers. “I gather you’ll alert ‘the troops’?”  
  
Rowena smiled. “Indeed.” She nodded at Giles and the rest of the Scoobies before walking out the door.  
  
“So. Are you gonna tell us what the hell is going on?” Dawn pointed to the door, indicating Rowena’s departure. “Including that.”  
  
Instead of answering, Helena handed over the letter to Giles. Xander, Dawn, and Willow crowded around him, attempting to read the note. “Dear heavens, I will summarize the letter momentarily, if you’d simply give me some breathing space,” Giles complained.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Dawn reached over for a Mountain Dew. “You have to admit, there’s lots of wordiness going on here without actually saying anything, and you know how we hate waiting for info.”  
  
Helena meanwhile settled herself back in her chair and then began whispering instructions to Edison. “You’ll have to forgive us. There are some things that Faith needs to hear first. But there is some information that we can share with you now, perhaps clear things up a bit.”  
  
“But first we must ensure absolute security.” Edison pulled out his wand and was about to cast a spell, before Willow interrupted him.  
  
“Oh, that’s no problem.” She muttered a spell, waved her hand. A wash of yellow light swept around the room, before dissipating, locking down any sounds from escaping the room, preventing anyone or thing from listening or hearing.   
  
Nodding, “Impressive,” he uttered, causing Willow to blush at the praise. However Edison cast a _Colloportus_ spell towards the door, locking it.  
  
Meanwhile, Xander offered them some food and drink. After filling drink orders – including a whiskey for Edison, tea for Giles, Willow, and Helena, soda for everyone else, they settled in for what was sure to be an interesting story.  
  
“The popular history of the British Wizarding World began with Merlin and Morgana Le Fay. I’m sure you’ve heard of both?” At everyone’s nod, she smiled at the look of anticipation and excitement in the red-headed witch and the young woman named Dawn. “As you can suspect, it began much earlier. But that is for the Wizarding History books, so I won’t bore you with the details. But it should be noted that Merlin was taught by even more powerful Witches and Wizards – the Founders of Hogwarts.”  
  
“It was around that time that some of our family history began. Unfortunately, some of that history was lost. But we think the answers lie in Hogwarts, which still stands today. What we do know is that some of that history directly involves our ancestors. Unlike many of Britain’s original Wizarding families, our family has a mixture of pureblood and Muggle-born. Powerful Muggle-borns, mostly.” She shared a look with Edison. “There were a few Squibs, a few magical creatures, some with a gift for communing with magical creatures, and others with a gift for potion-making. But in the end we’ve always believed that they added to the distinctiveness of our family lineage.”  
  
“Magical creatures?” Dawn questioned.  
  
“Squids? Why would you want a squid?” Xander looked thoroughly confused.  
  
Edison chuckled. “Squibs with a b. Not squids. A Squib is an individual borne from at least one magical parent with no discernible magic. A sort of Wizard-born-Muggle.”  
  
“As individuals who grew up on a Hellmouth, you must realize that there are all manner of creatures out there that aren’t necessarily evil?” Helena inquired.  
  
“Oh! You mean Oz-like magical creatures?!” Willow exclaimed, to which both Xander and Dawn nodded in agreement, while Giles simply removed his glasses for more wiping.  
  
Frowning in confusion, the older woman looked towards a slightly exasperated Giles for Scooby-speak clarity. “My apologies. They have their unique way of phrasing things that I’m only just beginning to decipher. But I believe they mean creatures like our friend Oz, who is a Werewolf.”  
  
This time it was Helena who chuckled. “That is correct.” She paused to sip her tea before continuing.  “We’ve always believed that their distinctiveness added to our family line, strengthened it, with the result that once every few generations a powerful witch or wizard would be born that exemplified that power, and the very best of our family lineage. A philosophy not shared by most of the older Wizarding families. So much so, that eventually we would be at odds with most of the pureblood Wizarding families. This came to a head upon one of the first Wizarding wars.”  
  
At this, Helena’s eyes grew distant and sad as the memories poured in. “A lot of good people died in that war. It was at that time that we realized that to remain in Britain, particularly considering some of our… family heirlooms and ancestry, would be to endanger the family overall.”  
  
She took note that a flushed and winded Faith had quietly slipped into the room, realizing that Edison had the foresight to set the spell to only allow the Chosen Slayers into the room. “So you ran?”  
  
Helena shook her head, her eyes locking onto her granddaughter’s. “No Faith. We survived. You have to understand that Voldemort believed that if you did not subscribe to his pureblood agenda, entire families were wiped out. Ours was too important to the Wizarding world to let that happen. And we were still recovering from Grindelwald. He was an earlier version of Voldemort. Only not as… _visionary_.”  
  
“If certain… information or objects fell into the wrong hands, the Wizarding world would have been lost to Darkness.”  
  
Willow instinctively understood what they meant. “So what you’re telling us is that the Wizarding community gave rise to two ‘Hitlers’ and anyone who wasn’t pureblood were the Jews?”  
  
“These objects. If they were so powerful, why weren’t they used to turn the tide?” It seemed to Dawn that if they had a bigger ‘gun’ they should have used it. Unless that ‘gun’ was a Darth-Willow.  “So these objects were ultimately of the bad?”  
  
Sighing, Helena answered. “No, they were not. But they couldn’t be activated neither. And yes, it was exactly like the Nazis. In fact, Grindelwald assisted the Nazis before he was finally taken down.”  
  
This time it was Faith that chimed in. “Because they could only be activated by someone special.”  
  
The older woman smiled in approval. “Correct. Like a special key to a lock, they could only be activated by a special someone from our family line. At that time, that person didn’t exist.”  
  
Helena stood up and walked over towards a very tense Faith, who’d been standing near the doorway. Cautiously she reached over to gently cup the Slayer’s jaw. “How are you my dear? Did you clear your head a bit?”  
  
For Faith, the emotions washing through her were almost more than she could bear. The motherly-like action was resonating inside her. Aside from Joyce Summers and her own mom for the first few years of her life, Faith had never had anyone emanate such seemingly unconditional love and caring. If this had been the old her, the person she was before she went to prison, chances are she would have never come back to this room, to this woman, to her family.  
  
That person, that emotionally immature and scarred person didn’t believe she could be loved, that everyone should be viewed with suspicion until they could prove otherwise by some standard unknown to even Faith. Suddenly Faith felt the fluttering of fear; fear of what this woman represented, this woman who had a few of her own features, would likely leave once she found out about who Faith **really** was. This would have been enough to send the old Faith right back out of that door, never to return. Clenching her fists, a muscle bunched in her cheek, underneath her grandmother’s soft palm.  
  
Casting her eyes to the floor, she gruffly responded, “I think so.” Faith could feel her magic bubbling up, hot and fizzily. She shifted, trying to calm down, a knot forming in her throat, as emotions threatened to envelop her. Suddenly warmth surrounded her as Helena finally engulfed her in a heartfelt hug.  
  
“It’s all right. It’s going to be all right. Whatever it is, it’s all right. You are a Ravendor and nothing will change that. Nothing.” Helena felt her own swell of emotional release overwhelm her. After so many years, she finally had her granddaughter again. She managed to stifle a sob when she realized that the younger woman’s face was wet with her own tears. “Whatever it is we’ll get through it.”  
  
But Faith was feeling too vulnerable, too exposed; once Helena and Edison found out about **_who_** she really was, they wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Tearing herself from the surprisingly comfortable… protective embrace, the Dark Slayer stood back.  
  
“But will you wanna ‘get through it’ when you hear I’ve killed a man?! Or that I’ve been in jail?!”  She sneered.  
  
However Helena could only feel the sorrow welling inside her even more. So many people have failed her Faith. “You think we didn’t know? You think I wouldn’t have tried to find out everything about you, everything you’ve been through? Merlin, Faith, you’ve been so very alone, without…”  
  
The sob she’d been holding back, escaped as she scrunched her eyes shut, even as it allowed more tears to escape. When a lamp exploded, startling everyone, they heard Faith curse, while Edison once again rushed over to calm her magic.  
  
Suddenly Giles stood up. “I think now is a good time for us to leave Faith and her guests alone. We’ll round up some dinner, as well as the some guest quarters in the event you’d like to stay for a few days,” announced Giles, as he motioned to the rest of the Scoobies to follow him.  
  
Each member of the long-time Sunnydale group paused beside their dark-haired friend to drop words of encouragement and support, before walking out. Xander turned towards Helena, Edison, and Faith. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, if you’re legit – and I’m not saying you aren’t, then I’m glad you found our Faith. She’s about as awesome and brave as they come.” With that he smiled at the look of astonishment on the Slayer’s face, before closing the door behind him.  
  
They met up with Buffy on their way to the kitchens, who immediately began pelting them with questions. Meanwhile, Edison and Helena finally coaxed Faith into a chair across from them, so they could really discuss her immediate future. “I think we should begin with you Faith. You’re the last Chosen Slayer; a mythical legend thought to only exist in our dreams, and magical theory books. And yet my granddaughter is one.” She clasped her hands together against her chest in excitement and pride. “How extraordinary!”  
  
Faith smirked, rolling her eyes in amusement. “Tell me that when I come home with Xanarl demon blood all over me.”  
  
Helena’s eyes twinkled before growing serious and solemn. “From what little we’ve read, I know you’ve had a very…,” she swallowed down the emotion that was threatening to well up again, “difficult life. One that leaves me breathless with rage and grief that you’ve had to endure it mostly alone.” She paused, gaining control of tide of anger, frustration, regrets, and even exhaustion. “But we, I, am proud of you. Proud that you somehow, someway, overcame those obstacles to become the young woman you are today.”  
  
“You know the greatest wizard of our time, Albus Dumbledore had to overcome his own darkness to become the great hero of Light he is today.” Faith, still looking skeptical, only raised a neat eyebrow in response. “You see we know about the Mayor and the Deputy Mayor.”  
  
At the look of disbelief and rising fear; fear of rejection, of disgust, of disappointment, Helena reached over to warmly clasp her hands. Faith wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely sort, but for some reason, Helena seemed to get past all her usual defenses. “You know, the story about Dumbledore is interesting because I firmly believe that part of his greatness is him being fighting to overcome his darkness. Our family moto is: _scribe vincere tenebras lucem -_ to know the light, is to overcome the dark. You exemplify this extraordinarily difficult quality. I believe it makes you a fearsome Slayer and I have no doubt it will make you a great Witch.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Acceptance**

Tentative eyes lifted, shifting between Helena and Edison, unwittingly seeking approval, honesty, and another unnamed emotion Faith wouldn’t admit to. Faith realized very early on in her short life, that life simply wasn’t fair; she more than enough examples of bad luck, fate, or simply the PtB screwing with her. Granted she was able to sneer in the face of insurmountable odds, like helping to beat the First, saving Angel from Angelus, the Scoobies giving her another chance, and finally, perhaps accepting her. This was the very first time, in as long as she could remember that the gods might be smiling upon her.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up, we’ve already received a request for an audience from the British Ministry of Magic, so we need to make you aware of a few things before we make that appointment. Before that happens, could you lift your hand, palm down?”

Utterly confused, but trusting that Helena and Edison knew what they were doing, she brought her hand up. Helena and Edison reached over and clasped their hands around hers. As the matriarch of the Ravendor clan, she oversaw all formal family functions and traditions. Bringing up her wand; willow, thirteen and a half inches, with the hair of a theastral as its core, she uttered the phrase, _Aperio Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Prosapiea_. She lightly tapped its tip on top of their hands.

Suddenly a jet of red and blue light shot from the tip of her wand, circling up high in the air, weaving around each other until the two colors bled into each other. What flummoxed Helena was the extra unexplained color that appeared to join the other two: green. All those colors created a weird cyclone, causing papers, bags, and other contents to flutter and whip around the room, until the colors cycled down, briefly separating, funneling down until the colors clashed together right above Faith. The resulting effects caused a cascade of red, green, and blue sparkles to fall over her.

Faith barely restrained herself from grabbing her stake, but her grandmother’s surprisingly strong grip kept her hand in place, followed by Edison’s urgent appeal to not release their hands until the spell was complete. Wide-eyed, her eyes fluttered close as the sparkle of magic flew over her, dancing over her skin, causing it to tingle and ripple, creating a sensation of warmth, acceptance, along with a fundamental shift of something clicking and setting itself to right. Unbeknownst to her, the spell was setting off a cascade of events within the room, as well as outside the room, and beyond. The magic caressed Willow’s magic, tickled Dawn’s, resonated within The Coven’s spiritual center, and jarred any and all members of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. It also rumbled the hidden resting places of the Founders, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin elves that hadn’t been seen since the last remaining heir passed away many centuries ago. This also meant that the foundation of Hogwarts was jarred, happy it had found its Heir.

The wave of powerful magics also alerted the Ministry; but they were unable to determine from where it originated, aside from hints of Hogwarts, which naturally increased Minister Fudge’s suspicion of Albus Dumbledore. But he too, was busy trying to discern this magic. He suspected that whatever it was, it would worry Him. The magic was Light, not Dark, and it delighted Hogwarts, he could feel it through his connection with the castle. Albus knew he should prepare himself; Fudge and Umbridge should be making an appearance any moment now, believing he was behind the spell. Luckily a timely _Patronous_ arrived, beckoning him to his brother Abe’s home. Suddenly the door to his office blew open and predictably Minister Fudge, Dolores Umbridge wearing that sickly-sweet smile, Percy Weasley, Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Senior Auror Dawlish, appeared.

Before Fudge could open his mouth, Albus took the initiative. “Ah, I see you’ve brought everyone. How can I help you Minister?”

With a glare, the Minister once again, leveled unfounded charges against Dumbledore, along with poisonous side commentary from Umbridge. Finally, Fudge charged Dumbledore with conspiring against him and the Ministry, in addition to helping Sirius Black and well-known Death Eaters escape from Azkaban. Then he demanded what kind of spell he used.

“Minister, unfortunately you will not get those answers today. Nor will I be accompanying you.” And with that, Fawkes, his phoenix landed on his shoulder, Albus raised hands, clapping them above his head, and then he disappeared in a flash of sparkles.

Kingsley shook his head in discreet fond amazement. “Well if there’s one thing you can say about him, is that he’s got style.” He ignored the looks of disapproval because this Order of the Phoenix member planned to have a good chuckle with Albus later on this evening when he met up with him at Abe’s.

 

* * *

**Looking for Kreacher**

 

Andromeda Tonks had been busy with dinner when the spell hit, chiming the Black family clock. Paling, she ran into the living room to find out who was the new family member; the name ‘Faith’ appeared. It had yet to say who she was and what Black member she was related to. Since neither of her sister’s names appeared, Andy could only assume it had something to do with Sirius. A visit was long overdue to the Black ancestral home.

She used her wand to send a _Patronous_ to her husband Ted, alerting him that she’d be late for dinner and another to her daughter to meet her at Grimmauld Place. Honestly, Sirius should have known she knew he was hiding out there. He certainly could have let his favorite cousin know he was alive and well. When she appeared with a crack, she focused on the _Fidelius Charm_ until with a shudder the building appeared. Andromeda approached the door and briskly knocked. She knocked again, smirking when she heard the awful wailing of Walburga Black, complaining about “mudbloods, blood-traitors, and filth.” Right as the door was jerked open to a scowling and rather unkempt Sirius Black, another pop sounded right behind her, followed by the sound of someone stumbling.

Sighing, Andromeda pushed past him. “Long time, no see cousin. Surely you didn’t think I wasn’t aware of your little ‘early release’ program?” She turned around to see her daughter, this time with shocking magenta hair and dark eyes. “Come along, Nymphadora.

“Wotcher, Sirius! And how many times do I have to tell you - it’s **Tonks** mother. You know how much I hate it when you call me Nymphadora.”

Unfortunately they were interrupted by more awful screeching from her aunt, Sirius’ mother, from within the shrewish Walburga Black painting. It was spelled to go off, yelling obscenities anytime it sensed someone who wasn’t a pureblood witch or wizard nearby.

“Oh shut it, you vicious windbag!” He pointed his wand and muttered a spell closing the curtains around the picture, providing blessed silence.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the room where the Black family tree existed. Naturally, like any ‘pureblood traitor’ both him and Andy’s picture was blown off long ago. So too, was Tonks picture, since she was a “half-blood traitor.”

“Sirius! If you do not unhand me right this instant I will hex your bloody bits right off of you!” Instantly Sirius removed his hand. Andy might be disowned, but she grew up a Black, and a female Black at that, which made her wand-hex work more than formidable.

Brushing her hand along her sleeve, straightening her dress as a means to calm herself; Sirius always had knack for instantly driving her batty – even if he was her favorite relative. “Now, what is it that you have to show me?”

Rolling his eyes, affectionately watching as Tonks looked over the family tree, he didn’t miss the look of rejection when she saw her and her mother’s name blasted off.  “Oi! Sirius! Who is this Faith person next to Uncle Reggie’s name?”  
  
Paling, Andromeda stared at Sirius, before quickly following her daughter’s hand to the evidence. “What?! How???!”

“That’s what I’ve been bloody trying to show you! If your sisters find out about this…” He didn’t need to finish that thought, because she knew her psychotic sister Bellatrix would hunt down this Faith if she ever found out. They couldn’t let that happen.

“Ok. All right. Let’s all calm down. Now. What do you know – or did Regulus have any… paramours?”

Sirius ran his hand through his long, dark wavy hair in frustration. Shaking his head, he responded, “I really have no idea. I was in Azkaban before I even knew of his death.”  He frowned, remembering… something. “But, I’d heard a rumor that he’d been sent on some kind of mission from Voldemort. Somewhere out of the country.”

“Merlin, I hope somewhere in Europe and not the States. I could only imagine Bella’s reaction to having an American relative. Especially if she’s not pureblood as I suspect.”

“Well, regardless, we need to find her before someone else does,” Tonks chimed in. This time, her hair was yellow and fell well below her shoulders, to match sky-blue eyes.

Suddenly, Sirius snapped his fingers in excitement. “Wait, we can ask that cantankerous lout of an elf, Kreacher!

A pop suddenly a small grey being appeared, with huge droopy ears, wearing a soiled towel fashioned into a tired-looking toga. “Kreacher is here.” Then the droopy ears stiffened, as he shuffled quickly (at least for him) near where Tonks was standing. He stiffened when he saw both Tonks and Andromeda. “Filthy blood trai-“

Sirius threateningly lifted his hand to whack him upside his head, before he was stopped with Andy’s hand on his arm. “Kreacher. Would you be as kind as to tell us what you know about this Faith and her connection to Regulus?”

“Kreacher cannot say. Regulus asked Kreacher to keep a secret.” He said with some reluctance. But then he raised his gnarled finger towards the area where Regulus and the mysterious Faith appeared. “Kreacher must go. Kreacher has a new master.”

He smiled a sort of painful-looking rictus grin. “You are no longer Kreacher’s master.” and with that he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

“I believe that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen that tawdry little shite move.”

“Now we just have to follow him.” This time it was she who cast a spell, a homing spell. “Hopefully we’ll have our answers soon.” 

 

* * *

**Malfoy Manor - Wishful Thinking...**

Narcissa watched as her sister, Bellatrix lazily twirled her wand while the cowering Wormtail prostrated himself before her. She allowed herself an internal shudder; she could never understand why Bellatrix enjoyed torturing people, reveling in the sounds of their suffering. Narcissa, for the thousandth time wished she could whisk away her son to some place far away. She suspected that the Dark Lord was going to give Draco an impossible task, one that he knew her son would fail at in order to punish Lucius. The resentment she felt against both her sister and husband knew no bounds.

Not to mention that her lifestyle had been significantly curtailed due to the Dark Lord and her husband’s activities. Lucius and she had an arrangement: he had his paramours and she had her… indiscretions. The rules were: no off-spring and no scandals. Lucius was unaware that she knew he broke the first rule. But then, he always was a bit of a disappointment.

Her… indiscretions were conducted primarily in the Muggle world – less chance of getting caught by the Daily Prophet or by one of her pureblood ‘friends.’ In addition, unless she conducted the spell herself, which was prohibited and very unlikely, there was no chance of a pregnancy. Narcissa first discovered she preferred females while attending Hogwarts. Both her sisters knew, but were also aware that their parents had arranged pureblood marriages long before they graduated – no exceptions.

Unless she wanted to be disowned like Andy and it was because of Andy that she had marry Lucius immediately upon graduation. It didn’t help that it was Bellatrix who caught her, literally with her hand up the skirt of a 6th year Hufflepuff. She simply sneered and said, “At least it wasn’t a filthy mudblood.”

Her sister has never been shy about what her priorities were; to the detriment of everyone else. But it was this… predilection for women that frankly, kept her sane and functioning. However due to Lucius’ failure, her sister’s frequent psychotic episodes  - which inevitably led to blood being spilled in her home, the constant threats to Draco, and last but certainly not least, the Dark Lord defiling her home on a regular basis, she couldn’t risk being seen enjoying herself out in Muggle London. She hated it, she hated this brewing war, she hated the sheer evil that has infested her home, she despised not being able to adequately protect Draco, and she loathed her husband, whom next to Bellatrix, she truly blamed for her current oppressive living environment. But most of all, she hated herself.

Narcissa hated that she’d never been courageous enough. Even back when her father, during one of his terrible drunken rages, would reach for either Andy or herself, but it was Bellatrix who’d bravely take the brunt of his abuse.  She remembered crying while she helped clean her sister’s wounds. And she remembered hating that she wasn’t brave enough to take on their father for her sisters, even if she was the youngest. When Andy left and married Teddy Tonks, his rages became worse. Their mother was too busy either cowering or dealing with one of ‘episodes’ when reality became hazy, to help. And now she hated that she’d been unable to prevent the very damaged person her sister has become.

Narcissa also hated that she’d hadn’t been brave enough to stick up for Andy, even if she’d been completely eradicated her from her life after Andy defied their family moto: _Toujours pur_ –always pure. Andromeda wanted love and happiness and was brave enough to seek it. Concepts Narcissa couldn’t fathom having the opportunity to experience in this current environment. Any further self-castigation was interrupted by a sound she didn’t need – the Black Family Clock.

Luckily Bellatrix had just _Apparated_ away, no doubt on her way to terrorize someone. Draco was away at Hogwarts, and Lucius was away on some errand for the Dark Lord. Ignoring the leering look of suspicion from a Lestrange brother, Narcissa calmly left to investigate, once again ignoring the Snatchers and Death Eaters milling about on her way to her study. One place they were not allowed to enter was her study. Of course, only the Dark Lord was allowed, others soon learned that while Narcissa played the role of a regal coolly distant, wife of a Death Eater hostess, she was more than capable of delivering a nasty hex. With a swish of her wand, she set a silencing spell and locked the door.

She walked over towards what was seemingly a benign clock, was actually a magical clock that notified Black family members of a new family member – usually by birth. The clock also designated how the new family member was connected– obviously via mother or father, mostly. Frowning, the only person who she theorized might have a new child would be Andromeda. But she wasn’t aware that Andromeda was pregnant. And since her daughter, Nymphadora was now under the Tonks family line, the clock wouldn’t designate a new Black family member in the event she had a child.

Eyes widening, that could only leave one person and she desperately hoped it wouldn’t be. Not only has Sirius not been cleared of all charges, but he was still a fugitive, and hated enemy of Bellatrix! No doubt, the child was a half-blood, since Sirius had no qualms about thumbing his nose at the Black family moto, plus he knew it would infuriate Bellatrix.

However the name she read was not only was **NOT** Sirius’ child, but it was a name she knew nothing about. In addition, the clock had yet to reveal how this female child was related to their family. With a deep sigh, she memorized the name, and then made plans to track down this person. Narcissa sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to involve Bellatrix; she tended to make things quite volatile, and if this Faith didn’t measure up to her sister’s standards, then Narcissa shuddered to imagine what would become of her.

Perhaps this will be a chance to finally do something brave. 


	6. Chapter 6

**A Random Night at Hogsmeade**

The woman groggily attempted to gather herself from the damp ground, her straggly curly hair strewn about her face. She looked around, peering through bottle-thick lenses at her surroundings, and only saw curiosity, amusement, and resigned exasperation. Finally, a tall wizard, with a thick graying beard stooped down to help her to her feet. Another nameless hand handed over the woman’s wand which she’d inadvertently dropped. Abeforth Dumbledore could only hope that no one took notice that Sybil had one of her infamous spells. But first he had to get her somewhere safe and secure before one of Voldemort’s followers or the Ministry caught wind that Professor Trelawney just had a vision.

More commonly known as a quack except when she was swept up in a vision, portending a prophecy. It was her who had prophesized Voldemort’s return, as well as the means to finally destroy him. While rare, her visions were often disturbingly accurate; so much so that the Ministry had standing orders to collect any and all of Sybill’s visions and store them within the Department of Mysteries. Holding up the still wobbly professor, he finally shuffled them over to the door that housed his bar and home, the Hog’s Head Inn. Once inside, he gave some instructions to his bartender, and then escorted the woman upstairs to his living quarters.

After settling Sybill into a chair, he sent a **_Patronous_** to Sirius and Albus alerting them to the situation. He then called forth a couple of glasses and his favorite brand of firewhisky, poured himself a shot, and was about to offer Sybill a drink only to see her  pulling from a silver flask. Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to Sybill with his wand.

“Now Professor, I need to draw your thoughts and memories from earlier. Just sit back and relax, it won’t take long.”

“Oh dear.  It was The Sight, wasn’t it? I do wish it wouldn’t take so much out of me, it leaves one practically daft towards the end.”

Abeforth barely restrained himself from responding with doubts that it was the _Sight_ that was responsible for her daftness. Grunting a response, he lifted his wand and gently pressed the tip to Sybill’s temple. Concentrating, he whispered a wordless spell and slowly pulled the wand away from her temple as it pulled a glowing white string which contained the recent thoughts and memories of Sybill. Grabbing a glass vial, he dropped the phosphorous cloud of memories/thoughts into the object. Right at that moment a knock sounded on his door, startling the delicate Professor, almost knocking her glasses askew.

Abeforth went to the door opening it to let in his brother Albus, Kingsley Shaklebolt, and Sirius Black.

“Good evening Abe,” Sirius greeted as he stepped into the room.

“Evening Abe,” Kingsley followed.

“Albus, Sirius, Shaklebolt.” He replied.

“Hello Abe. Thank you for assisting Professor Trelawney and contacting us.” He solemnly watched as his brother simply grunted a response before stopping to refill his glass. Their relationship was as strained as ever, the Order was the only thing they had in common. He gestured towards Sirius, Kingsley, and Albus with the firewhisky bottle; both Kingsley and Albus politely declined, while Sirius muttered ‘later.’

Albus stooped down before Sybill. “Hello Professor Trelawney.”

“Accio Pensieve,” Albus incanted, before a small, mortar-like object appeared in the room.

“So what have we got?” Sirius inquired.

“One cannot help when the Sight takes hold, nor its wicked after-effects. Luckily Abeforth was nearby to graciously assist me in my hour of need.” She turned her attention towards Abeforth. “Thank you dear.”

Abeforth merely rolled his eyes again while lifting the glass to his lips.

“Now my dear relax for a while we take a moments to look over a few things.”  
  
“Of course, Headmaster. Take all the time you need. Besides I do not anticipate the Sight taking hold of me again this night.” And with that, she lifted her flask to her lips for another long draw of “medicine.”

Meanwhile, Kingsley delicately gripped the vial and poured its contents into the swirling, silvery liquid.  Albus, Sirius, and the Auror leaned their heads over the _Pensieve_ to stare at what was revealed.

When it was completed, the men stood upright in stunned silence, hopeful, and most of all amazed at what they just witnessed. And they also realized that this must be kept hidden at all costs.

“It appears that our Hermione Granger is more than she appears,” Albus stated.

Sirius shook his head, still awed. “A Slayer, here?!

This time it was Kingsley who reacted, grunting. “A Slayer, who appears to be a Witch.” 

Luckily Sybill was too far gone into her cups, intoxicatingly listing to the side, as she dozed drunkenly. Abeforth quietly listened, equally stunned at what he’d just heard.

Sirius wickedly grinned. “You think she likes older men?”

This time it was Kingsley who rolled his eyes. “If she did, I doubt it’d be you my friend. You’re looking a little worse for wear and older.”

Chuckling Sirius replied, “Fair enough. Azkaban will do that to you.”

“I think it’s fair to say, that the coming war will be a great deal more difficult than Voldemort anticipated.” Albus took a moment to stare down at his decaying hand. He could feel the dark magic eating away at his flesh. If he was correct, unfortunately he won’t be alive to see the results of what he just witnessed. But he planned to meet this young woman as soon as possible.

He had to hope that Harry and Ron can protect Ms. Granger until her time comes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Helga's Turn**

1015 A.D. 

Her colleagues functioned under the assumed misconception that Helga was completely selfless. She suspected that Salazar had even more unkind words, such as weak, gullible, easily manipulated, and she believed that the others wouldn’t put up much of a fight to deny those charges. But they never realized how difficult acceptance and tolerance were, particularly in the face of a Muggle culture beset by fear, aggression, and conquest, mainly against anything that they didn’t understand.

Helga was also aware that she was often taken for granted by her colleagues; they entrusted her with very complex secrets that often caused her shoulders to stoop under the weight of them. They created pain and suffering, much of it inadvertent – some of it not, then they then expected Helga to heal or repair the damage, which she did with little to no questions. They also shared their bickering and selfishness with her in hopes that she’ll peacefully resolve things without them having to do the hard work themselves.

In other words, she managed all of her friends’ very worst qualities so that they didn’t tear each other apart. It was a completely thankless task and one she was becoming very tired of. The latest insult was this child that was currently in her care. Handed over by Salazar, she suspected that some spell erased his memories of any connection to the child, as well as why Cassiopeia Faith Gryffindor-Ravenclaw was lying dead after having given birth, in his home. Naturally she not only had to clean and hide the evidence of what happened, but then remove her beloved niece to her rooms in Hogwarts, all the while trying to overcome feelings of grief, bewilderment, anger, and resentment. She did this in order to prevent what would have certainly world-tearing results if Godric or Rowena had any idea that Salazar had been involved. It had also been up to her to alert both Godric and Rowena of their daughter’s passing.

The only thing preventing her from cursing Salazar was the look of bewildered grief or protectiveness he’d shown over both the infant and Faith. Nevertheless, Helga was rather sick of all of them, hiding their faults, cleaning up their mess, was draining. It was time to do something for herself. The first thing would be to hide the child from them. She’d place her with a quiet, unassuming Wizard family. She required that they give an Unbreakable Oath to always keep the child’s lineage a family secret. In addition, she asked that the family allow the family’s heir/heiress to be her understudy, so that this person could promote her ideals and values, as well as shoulder the secrets of Helga Hufflepuff.

The family happily agreed and it turned out that this understudy was an heiress, since their son died from a bout with dragon pox. It was also decided by this family that given the tremendous honor bestowed upon them by Helga, that the family lineage would be a matriarchal structure, and that they would take on the name of the newborn – Ravendor.

Meanwhile, Helga had additional plans of her own. Plans that involved Hogwarts, any and all off-spring of the Founders, even the nascent Wizarding world that needed to watched over, and perhaps saved from itself.  The argument over Pureblood and Muggle-born will not go away, and with the right environment, a charismatic and powerful leader, things could become rather nasty quickly. She’d seen enough of that within the Muggle world. These _Guardians_ would be the heirs of Helga Hufflepuff. These Guardians won’t be found in every generation, but only when they were needed the most. This was very tricky and complicated magic. Helga was often underestimated being surrounded by her more famous, charismatic friends. Yet, it is often forgotten that she had the strengths of all the Founders: courage of a Gryffindor, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, and the cunning of a Slytherin. It was all hidden behind her sweet and serene appearance.

For now she had an appointment to keep with a powerful and promising, 7th year Wizard; one she suspected would play an important role in shaping Britain’s Wizarding world. He also would be asked to play a central role in her plans and given his obvious crush in his favorite professor – Helga, she believed getting his acquiescence in her plans shouldn’t be very difficult. But unlike her arrogant colleagues, she had every intention of fully informing him, so that he could make an educated decision. The spell would not work without his full cooperation.

She watched as the tall, broad-shouldered wizard entered the room. Helga believed that had he been trained and experienced enough he might have been a Founder as well.  “Greetings Merlin.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Running to Your New Life...**

Hermione ran down the low-lit corridor clutching her bleeding hand. Harry and Ron naturally assumed it was only Harry who was being tortured by that evil bint, Dolores Umbridge. But they would be wrong; the hag always found ways to discreetly corner her, finding some reason (only known to Umbridge) to punish Hermione, and then would force her to write: _Those who are unworthy should know their place_ , with a blood-quill. And then when she wasn’t busy attending one of Umbridge’s torture sessions, she was hiding from Malfoy and his Slytherin goons. It was common knowledge that the stakes for Harry was inevitably high, but they were almost as high for Hermione. She was a Muggle-born witch, best friend to Harry Potter, and she was the brains of their little trio.

Not to mention, she was also a powerful witch, _one of the most impressive of her generation_ , it was said. None of this mattered to her, nor was she aware of the degree of her importance to Harry’s success, or to the Wizarding world. She wouldn’t have cared. She simply wanted to learn, to keep Harry and Ron, and all their friends safe. She wanted to protect her parents, whom she suspected might be targeted as a result of her affiliation with Harry. And she wanted to help bring down Voldemort. It was moments like these that reminded her just how high the stakes were in this brewing war. Hermione took a moment to stare down at her bleeding hand, watching the slow rivulets of blood flow down her swelling fingers to drip to the ground. Red; like all the purebloods – if only they could ‘see.’ But people like that didn’t want to ‘see,’ it was easier to create fear and hate in order to hold onto power over others.

When she heard footsteps creeping closer, along with the sound Goyle thinking he was whispering, (but not – he never was too bright), she once again dashed down another corridor, not even recognizing where she was going. It was when she turned yet, another corner, her bloody hand brushed across some bricks, unknowingly activating ancient magic. The bricks suddenly lit up with an inner, golden-glow, stilling her in her tracks.

The bricks began moving, shifting, pushing forward and back, similar to the entrance to Diagon Alley. The opening created a big-enough space for her to enter. Seeing the shadows of approaching Slytherins, she took a deep breath, and entered the space. The bricks immediately began closing behind her just as Draco, Goyle, and Crabbe sped past. The room she entered had the smell of old parchment, dust, and age. Sconces along the wall suddenly became lit and what was revealed had her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

She was startled once again when a female elf she’d never seen before; appeared with a **_pop_** in front of her. “Greetings Guardian. My name is Holly. It has been many centuries since the last Guardian appeared.”

Hermione wracked her brains for anything she could remember from the history of Hogwarts that would explain what was happening. “Umm. I-I don’t understand? And what do you mean Guardian?”

Instead of answering, the elf pointed towards an ancient-looking tome sitting on a sturdy wooden table. “We are the Guardian Elves of Hogwarts. And we are to help the Guardian when they appear.”

Frowning in prolonged confusion, she walked over towards the book, asking, “You mean you are not a Hogwarts elf?”  
  
The tiny being shook her head. “No.”

 It then disappeared with a **_pop_** only to instantly return with the same sound, holding a tray with a tea service. Another elf appeared, this time a male, holding a small wooden box. Inside were vials and other medical supplies. It bowed towards Hermione. “Hello. My name is Hobbs. I fix your wounds now, Guardian.”

In a daze, Hermione only nodded as she slowly sat in a nearby surprisingly comfortable chair. Hobbs placed the box down, quickly dug through until he found the vial he needed, and then presented to Hermione. “Please drink.”

It was filled with a glowing purple liquid that she hesitatingly drank, while Hobbs nodded with encouragement. A tingly sensation tickled down her arm, down along her hand. The wounds from the blood quill glowed, and then the wounded skin began stitching close until all appearance of those awful words disappeared: both older and recent. The Gryffindor witch cautiously clenched and opened her hand, realizing that it was entirely healed. Tears tickled in her eyes, grateful for the relief, and for the eradication of that small humiliation.

She lifted her eyes towards the soft, compassionate golden ones of the elf. “Thank you Hobbs.”

“It is no problem. It is our duty to see after the Guardian,” he replied, before busying himself with straightening the room. “Now, would Guardian Hermione wish for something to eat?”

Realizing that she hadn’t eaten since this morning and it was only toast and juice, her stomach rumbled at that very moment. “Please. Thank you.”

As she was about to question her new title, the large fireplace filling one section of the wall of the huge octagonal room, suddenly roared to life, when Holly snapped her fingers. The large book was gently placed in the young witch’s lap.

 “All information is within this book. You must read it.” An intricate yet, beautiful lock held the book closed, until Holly produced an antique-looking skeleton key held on a silver-linked necklace. “This is now yours.”

Another **_pop_** announced the arrival of Hobbs with another tray laden with food, pumpkin-juice, and butterbeer. But Hermione, ever the lover of books and knowledge, was busy opening the book with a reverence saved for her original copy of Hogwarts a History. Only to be shocked again when she realized that it was written by one of the Founders, Helga Hufflepuff, and it began with a Letter to the Guardian, to… Hermione.

 

_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_This book has been spelled to recognize the name of any new Guardian and make adjustments accordingly. You have been Chosen. The Guardian was created to save our world from itself and it was created by me in response to the potential darkness and injustices portended in our Wizarding community._

_A powerful spell was erected by the union of two magical beings, who gave life to the Guardian line. This room, this magic is protected by Blood Wards, only to be activated by the Guardian. It is set to recognize a worthy witch or wizard that also has the blood of both myself, Helga Hufflepuff, and the wizard who helped create this important entity – Merlin. It makes no difference what House you currently belong in, that will not change. If you are here, if this magic was activated, it was because you, the new Guardian is needed. Dark times are ahead and you must be prepared._

_The first, you must begin by learning the real history of the Founders, Hogwarts, and the history and role of the Guardian. Next, you must officially accept this role; the Guardian Elves will complete the magic to recognize you in your new responsibility. Finally, you must train. You are no regular Muggle-born: you have the blood of Helga Hufflepuff and Merlin running through your veins._

_There are additional duties and official ceremonies that must take place, mostly aided by designated Gringotts’ associates who have been charged for managing the affairs of the Guardian line. But if there is already darkness afoot, then one of your elves will contact the goblin that has been assigned to the Guardian line, and he will appear in this room to handle the necessary Guardian business and ceremonies. Better to remain discreet than give your enemy additional advantage. Compromising the Guardian would be just the advantage Darkness needs._

_Good luck, Hermione Granger. From what I have already discerned of your character, I could not be prouder of the magic’s choice._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Helga Hufflepuff_

Hermione paused, needing a moment to take in this new information, this new… reality. There was no question that she’d accept the role – she was a Gryffindor, and apparently she was also related to Helga Hufflepuff and… Merlin! Suddenly a ring appeared on top of the page. An intricate design, with ancient runes along its circumference, the metal was unfamiliar to Hermione. At its center was a glowing diamond-shaped, purplish-silver gem. Slowly she reached over and picked up the ring. The metal felt warm to the touch… almost, pliant(?).

Hermione was interrupted from her thoughts by Holly’s voice. “The Guardian must eat something. We have prepared your rooms. When you are ready Holly can show you.”

As Holly was speaking, Hermione had slipped on the ring. It fit as if it had been precisely sized for her finger. Unexpectedly, images began appearing, like a nebulous video reel. When Hermione realized what she was seeing, she was once again astonished. If what she was seeing was true, then she was watching images from the lives of the Founders!

It showed an unfamiliar woman, who bared a striking resemblance to Rowena Ravenclaw. She saw this woman arguing with both Rowena and a male. From the wild mane of hair, he must be Godric Gryffindor. A few images later, Hermione recognized Salazar Slytherin anywhere with that sinister, arrogant expression. Then she saw the same young woman with Salazar through many different scenes, and even more astonishing was that his usual intimidating, arrogant appearance was softened every time he looked upon this woman.

Wide-eyed, Hermione realized that his expression mirrored… love. He loved this woman! This woman with Rowena’s long, thick, dark hair, unusual lavender eyes, nose and jawline shaped like… Godric’s(?!). She then saw Salazar fighting with Godric, the woman trying to break them up, followed by an ill Rowena lying in bed, the woman crying next to her as she mopped the Founder’s brow. The next scene showed Salazar and this woman cuddling, and to her further amazement, the woman was pregnant!

Helena Ravenclaw made her first appearance in a forest standing before cauldron, with an ugly expression on her face. This was followed by Salazar standing over the woman helping her give birth. Next was Salazar holding a crying infant in the crook of his arm, while desperately trying to cast spells towards the woman, his expression fearful and desperate. Hermione then saw him walking around with the child wrapped in a blanket, the woman had been completely covered up, Hermione assumed the mother had died.

Helena Ravenclaw made another appearance in the next scene; she appeared to be casting a powerful, dark, if the blood was any indication, spell. Hermione watched as she mouthed the words Cassiopeia Faith, and she wondered if that was the mysterious woman’s name.

The next scene involved Salazar still holding the baby and Helga Hufflepuff. She watched as Helga took the baby from Salazar and disappeared. The final scene involved Helga placing the baby in the arms of smiling couple. When the images tapered off, Hermione sat back, mulling, wondering over what she’d just witnessed. Apparently there was a child that connected all the Founders. She wondered about the family where the child was placed. Hermione intended to find out more information. She suspected it was crucial.

For now, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, she needed rest. The thought of making her way back to the Gryffindor rooms was exhausting. So she called for Holly, who once again, appeared with a _**pop**_. “Do these rooms have a bed?”

And the next thing she knew, she was being shown into another room filled with a huge four-poster bed, complimented by a bedspread the color of gold, green, red, and blue. The room was large, with a beautiful bay window overlooking Hogwarts grounds. Hermione suspected that she could probably see out, but it was spelled to prevent anyone from seeing in, or perhaps even seeing it at all. Clutching the large book to her chest, Hermione was suddenly overcome with sleepiness. So she pulled her wand from her back pocket, set it on a nearby pillow, shucked her jeans, slipped off her bra, and slipped naked underneath the blankets. Feeling a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in a long time, sleepiness swept over almost immediately. Thoughts of Harry or Ron, the Ministry, Umbridge, or anyone else were forgotten for a while. Unconsciously she smiled. Looks like Harry wasn’t the only one with a destiny.

As she slept, the Guardian elves were busy. They gave a thorough cleaning to the Guardian rooms, along with discreetly transferring her possessions from the Gryffindor dormitory to her new quarters, Holly then ran a cleansing spell over the sleeping witch, and dressed her a silk sleeping shirt. In addition, a formal notice was sent to the goblin charged with the Guardian accounts to present himself in Hermione’s new quarters at his soonest convenience, tomorrow. Another formal notice was sent to Albus Dumbledore, alerting him of Hermione’s new role and subsequent training. He was asked to be discreet regarding her identity, until she was properly acclimated and trained.

It was not his story to tell, he suspected Hermione will decide when to tell her best friends, and no doubt, Minerva. However, he planned to eventually alert certain Order members: Alastor, Kingsley, and Sirius since it confirmed the events portended in Sybill’s latest prophesy. Nevertheless, this latest event sent the elder wizard’s heart racing, filling it with hope and excitement. He would ask Minerva to watch over her Gryffindor-Guardian, particularly as times within Hogwarts grew more perilous. 


	9. Chapter 9

**A Moment on Pause... Interrupted by Kreacher**

Faith lay on her bed with her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts whirled, making her restless, and unable to sleep, until a knock sounded on her door. Sighing, she knew it was too much to hope that the Scoobs would finally leave her alone for a while. They’d been bombarding her with their weird version of smothering concern and nosiness ever since her grandmother retired for the evening. Her uncle left to take care of some family business.

It didn’t help that they’d been interrupted during dinner when the sound of a pop echoed in the room and then this small, slightly smelly, ugly creature appeared. Its gnarled features hosted huge eyes and droopy ears. It appeared to be wearing some kind of cloth that Faith swore was only ratty-looking towel. It quickly swiveled its head, looking around the room, and all the while Faith could hear it muttering weird, insulting things like, “… filthy Muggles… dirty… mudbloods…” but when its eyes lighted on Faith, its ears perked, as it rushed Faith, wrapping itself around her legs.   
  
“Kreacher has found you! Master Regulus was so very sad when he found out that Master had a family. Master made Kreacher promise to find them and watch over them. But Kreacher failed. Kreacher could not find them.” It lifted its head from Faith’s legs to peer up at Faith. “But now Kreacher has found Master Regulus’ family. Now Kreacher belongs to Faith.” it stated gleefully.

Faith had finally put away her knife that she’d pulled when the creature launched itself at her. Once she figured out that it wasn’t out to get her, but to apparently hug her to death, she somewhat relaxed. However, Helena listened attentively to what Kreacher was saying, only to realize that this was Regulus Black’s House Elf and since Faith is his heir, the elf, which belonged to the Black estate, now belonged to Faith.

Internally saying, it started to sink in how very complex her granddaughter’s associations would be. “This is a House Elf and they often belong to an estate or family. In this case, your other family – the Blacks.”

Still seeing the confusion in her Slayer’s face, she further explained. “In the Wizarding world, when an estate, plus any House Elves or staff dies, all their holdings including the Elves are passed onto the next heir. Apparently that is you.”

Still wide-eyed and slightly weirded-out that this creature ‘belonged’ to Faith, she peered down at it; it looked malnourished and definitely poorly dressed. “Ahhh, so ok. Kreacher, is it?”  
  
“Yes, Mistress Faith. How can Kreacher help you?” It finally released her legs, stepped back, and practically vibrated with anticipation. Finally, a worthy Black has come to save Kreacher from that blood-traitor!

“Ah, why don’t you head back to where you were stayin’ and we’ll come scope the place out later this week.” She frowned at the look of sheer disappointment from the elf. “You do have a place to stay right?”

A look of disgust appeared on Kreacher’s face. “Of course. The Most Noble and Ancient of House Black! But now a dirty blood-traitor, Sirius lives there.” But then his face became excited once again. “If Mistress wills it, Kreacher can have him removed?!”

Immediately shaking her head, Faith replied. “No, that’s ok. I’m assuming I’m related to him?”

Almost sullen now, having to talk about Sirius, Kreacher replied. “Yes. He is Master Regulus’ brother. But he is a blood-traitor.”

Rolling her eyes, knowing she didn’t want to hear anymore of his crap about blood purity, she responded. “Well, let him know I plan on stopping by soon. Thanks Kreach.”

With a sullen look deepening on his face, Kreacher had no choice but to return to the Black property.

“Well Faith, I gotta say, if that thing was any indication, you sure got some interesting times ahead.” Xander pronounced.

Needless to say, Faith had had more than her day’s supply of family surprises. She sincerely hoped that the knock on the door wasn’t more of the same. She needed a breather and then some.

Sighing, she yelled, “Come in.”

Red-hair peeked around the doorframe. “H-hey Faith. Don’t worry, I spelled to see if you were awake.” She came into the room, closing the door behind her. With a slightly sheepish look, Willow added, “Sorry. But I… need--, wondered if needed to talk?”

Raising an eyebrow in response, Faith smirked. “Everyone’s been tryin’ to talk to me all night.” She paused, assessing her Wiccan friend. “But maybe you need to?”

Brushing a lock of thick red-hair from her face, Willow approached the bed; she looked in askance at her Dark Slayer friend. With a nod from her, Willow sat on the bed, shifting around until she was lying, and curled up on her side, facing Faith. “You know your magic called to me. Like big time. It was like this cool wave of tickles and sparkles.” She whispered excitedly.

Faith chuckled. “That wasn’t necessarily me. From what grams said, it was a spell to check n’ see if I’m really a Ravendor.” She chuckled again, shaking her head self-deprecatingly. “But of course, it didn’t go quite as planned.”  
  
Willow frowned. “What do you mean?! You’re not—“  
  
“Nah, I’m **definitely** a Ravendor. But it turns out, I’m something else too. There was a third line of color, when there should’ve only been two.”

“Is it true that your ancestors are from two big-time witches? Or is it wizards, maybe it’s witches and wizards? But what do they use as the plural—“  
  
“Pipe down, Red. You can ask em’ any and all questions when we go to Witchy World tomorrow.”  
  
At that, Willow sat up in excitement. “Really? You’re letting me go with you?!”

Rolling her eyes in amusement, Faith responded. “I ain’t goin’ into a new territory, filled with magic-users without someone who is a kick-ass magic-user I trust, covering my back.” She watched as Willow’s eyes softened in response. “But that ain’t what you wanna talk about, is it?”

Faith and Willow had unwittingly developed a bond during their last days in Sunnydale; a bond that’d only grown deeper following their defeat of the First. Perhaps it had something to do with each understanding what it was like finding their way back after going _dark_. Maybe it had something to do with knowing what it was like to let down the Scoobies and having to earn back their trust. It was definitely the fact that they’d both taken a human life. There was also the fact that in order for Willow to pull off what was one of the most powerful spells in magical history, activating all the Potentials, the spell needed the current Chosen Slayer. Since Buffy had died, twice, the Slayer line now ran through Faith; as such, the Spell needed Faith, not Buffy. Or it could also be that they shared one intimate, desperate, intense, and hot night together on the eve of the Sunnydale Battle. It was probably all of these things.

Whatever the reasons, it created an irreparable rift between Willow and Kennedy, a rift that needed little help in creating. Sighing, Willow hung her head, her delicate hands picking at imaginary lint on the blankets. “Kennedy and I broke up. Or she broke up with me and I… didn’t really object. Which confirmed things for her

This time it was Faith who sat up, her hand reaching over to lie on the red-head’s shoulder. “Are you… ok?”

Brushing her hand through her deep, blood-red locks, Willow nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I’m ok. It’s just that… Shouldn’t I have fought… more? Or at all?  
  
Grunting, Faith shook her head. “Not if she wasn’t for you.” She consolingly patted her hand on Willow’s shoulder. “I mean, I’d take it as sign; she’s saying she wants out and you barely mutter a protest?!”

Allowing Faith to curl her arm completely around her shoulders, pulling her down to the bed, so she could curl up against the warm, almost too-hot, warmth of the Slayer, Willow snuggled against her… friend. She gave an internal laugh, wondering, yet knowing when Faith became her go-to, snuggle-friend, instead of Buffy. “Frankly, I should’ve known better. I mean there I was, barely coming off from witchy-rehab, still grieving for…, then fighting for our lives, having to find a mega spell that’d save the world, then doing said spell, all the while I’m trying to have a relationship with Kennedy, while sleeping with you – which was very nice by the way, the—“

“Whoa, pump your breaks, Red!” She chuckled; secretly she gotta kick out of Red’s babbling. “I get it; lots of stress, meant decisions were made that probably needed time makin’.  It’s ok, we’ve all been there. Course, some of my decisions were much worse. But you get over it, you learn what ya need to, and move on. You gotta – that’s what we do.”

Willow snuggled up closer to Faith, her hand sneaking a cop, knowing Faith would get a laugh out of it. “Look Red, I know you’re a breast-girl, but we got lots to do tomorrow, and while I’m not opposed to rebound sex, I ain’t gonna do it with a friend.” She paused to let that sink in. “Even if I wouldn’t have minded another turn – you were wicked fun. Who knew you had a little kink in ya?!” she snickered.

Willow blushed as red as her hair, smacking Faith on her muscled stomach. “Faith!”

“Look… I don’t have lots of friends. So while I wouldn’t mind sleepin’ with ya, I’d rather be your friend than a… lover. And with all this magic shit, I’m probably gonna need you even more.” The Slayer-Witch watched as Willow lifted her head to stare at her.

“Aw Faith, that’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say!” She allowed herself a moment to enjoy watching Faith squirm before putting her out of her misery. “But I think you’re right.” she paused. “Can I sleep in here tonight? I don’t wanna deal with anymore … _stuff_ tonight.”

Tightening her arm around the red-head, Faith replied, “No prob. Just don’t hog the blankets.”

Silence ensued for a few moments before it was broken by Willow’s amused voice, “So… an elf?”

Faith simply sighed.


	10. Chapter 10

**From the Muggle Life to the Wizarding World**

The following morning found Faith, Helena, Willow, and Edison walking into the Leaky Cauldron. Faith looked around at all the cloak-dress-wearing people milling about. “Ah, have we stepped into some kinda time-warp?”  
  
Chuckling Helena shook her head. “No, dear. That’s how… we tend to dress in the Wizarding world. It takes some getting used to if you haven’t experienced it.”

Meanwhile Willow was shivering with pleasure. The magic! It was everywhere, all around her! And they were openly using it! Apparently everyone really used wands around here. Edison pulled out a piece of paper, read the name, and shoved it in his pocket again. “Wait here, while I inquire about a person named Tom.”

Looking skeptical, Faith alertly watched as her uncle walked towards the bar, before taking in more of the room. Clearly, electricity never found its way here. “Geez, not exactly modern, is it?” She watched as a woman waved her wand, and chairs danced over and settled themselves around a nearby table. “Well, Red, unlike in the modern world, they don’t have a problem using magic.”

“Come along dears. Willow get a hold of yourself; I know it’s a lot to take in. No need to draw more attention than necessary.” Helena had been waiting a long time to be able to share this time-honored tradition with her granddaughter.

Albeit in the American version located in Salem called Haverhill. However, what she was worried about was Willow. Anyone would be able to feel the power flowing off of her and it was substantial power at that. She’d rather not have it known that the Red Witch was accompanying them. “Would you be as kind as to shield a bit harder. I’d do it myself, but it would be noticeable as compared to you doing a wandless spell.”

Willow blushed. “Oh sorry! I forgot! I was so excited, and then I felt the magic **way** before we got here, plus I was worried about what to wear, and then I wasn’t sure if those eggs agreed with me this morning. Then I ran into Kennedy-“

Amused, Helena turned towards her granddaughter who was simply smirking. “Is she always like this?”

“Yeah, she gets like that when she’s excited or nervous. In this case, I think it might be both. Plus she can’t have too much caffeine. Ever.” Faith insisted.

While Willow put up a shield around her magic; Helena ushered them over to Edison who was standing near a side door. They didn’t notice that with the powerful magic suddenly gone, it was like sucking a forceful energy out of the room, various witches and wizards looked around the room to see what caused the disturbance. But by then their group had left the room. Only one person noticed them and began to connect the incident.

They stood in front of a brick wall, watched as Edison tapped his wand in a weird sequential order. Once that was completed, Willow and Faith watched in amazement as the bricks shuddered, and then moved until it created an open doorway. Both Helena and Edison exchanged a smile before motioning the two young women forward.

They stepped into a world that they thought only existed in their imagination. They’ve witnessed things most of the world would never see, even worlds that no human should ever experience, things that only existed in people’s nightmares. This was the first time visiting a world of wonder and they had to be gently nudged forward because they were so busy stopping and staring.

“An entire world of magic!” uttered an amazed Willow. Tears thickened in her eyes and she found herself swallowing down a knot of emotion. She sniffled, ignoring the looks of concern from Faith, Helena, and Edison.   
  
Faith patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about Red. I think these are mostly happy tears.” Although Faith suspected this was also about Tara, and maybe some unresolved issues about Willow and magic. But her family didn’t need to know all that.

Smiling a look of gratitude at her friend, Willow nodded. “Sorry. And yes, definitely tears of the happiness variety.”

They finally paused before a huge, pale-colored, oddly constructed building called Gringott’s. Helena took the lead and entered the building, followed by Willow, then Edison, with Faith protectively bringing up the rear. “Come along dears. And try not to… harm the odd-looking creatures. Goblins manage this institution and we’ll need them to conduct our business.”

Faith discreetly unclenched her hand from around the handle of her favorite knife, while internally muttering the calming technique her uncle taught her to level out her magic. They came to a desk that sat high above them with a one of the ugly, officious, little people looking down at them.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I’d like to conduct a verification ritual, as well as gain access to our vaults.”

He spent a few moments peering down at them, pausing on Faith, and then Willow for a few moments before he held out his hand. “Your wand please.”

Helena handed over her wand. He held it for only a moment, examining it, pausing to stare at Helena before returning it her. Another goblin appeared next them. “Please come with me.” They all shared a look and then followed the goblin down a marbled hallway, coming before the office of the Director. Opening the door, he motioned them inside, closing it behind them, while remaining outside.

Seated at a grandiose desk was another goblin, with impressive side-burns and a moustache. “Greetings. Helena and Edison Ravendor. It has been some time since you’ve visited our British lands.” He directed his attention to Faith and Willow. “My, my, what do we have here?”

Faith barely restrained herself from launching herself at the goblin as she glared at him. “The Red Witch, and the last of the Chosen Slayer. We have no quarrel with you.” He then looked confused for a moment, before peering intently at Faith. “But then… you are no ordinary Slayer.” He slowly took out a knife while holding up his hand. “I mean you no harm. This is needed for verification. Please hold out your hand.”

Faith looked at Helena, who nodded with assurance. “Don’t worry Faith. This is a formal ritual. I promise it’s painless.” This time it was Willow who protectively watched the proceedings, narrowing her green eyes.

He gently and quickly pricked her finger, placing a piece of parchment underneath to catch the droplets of blood. After three drops, he gave a swish of his gnarled-looking wand, and suddenly lines began to form. The goblin, Reeves, watched wide-eyed as the lines flowed, curved, and circled, as words started to appear. Names, ancient, legendary names; names that were mentioned in secretive Gringott’s ledgers, whispered with reverence among the halls of the Ministry, even Hogwarts, names of accounts managed personally handed down by his ancestors. But it was the third name that stunned him. “If you could be so kind Mrs. And Mr. Ravendor and hold out your hands?” He reverently picked up Faith’s parchment and replaced it with a new one.

Again, he pricked their fingers, repeating the same motions, trying to ignore the watchful gazes of both the Slayer and the Red Witch. Once again, lines began to form, words appeared, and once again, legendary names appeared. The ones he was expecting. The ones he knew would set the Wizarding world on its ear if ever revealed. However, they dimmed in comparison to the Slayer’s added lineage. When both were completed, he sat back, gathering himself.

“It verifies your direct lineage to both Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor.” He paused, focusing on the Slayer. “But, for you, Slayer, it diverges into another line.” Tension filled the room. “Salazar Slytherin.”

At that, both Helena and Edison simply sat, stunned; disbelief, fear, and a little awe flickered across their faces, making Faith feel defensive. She had no idea who this Salazar guy was, but she wondered why she was related to him and they weren’t.

“Dear Merlin,” uttered Edison.

Seeing the look of defensiveness and confusion, Helena quickly spoke before any progress and caring between them was threatened. “Ravendor is a family name, root words used to hide our relationship to legendary wizards, the Founders of Hogwarts. While most people have heard of Merlin, both our ancestors are equally responsible for forming the Wizarding world as it is today. There were four Founders.” She paused to gather herself, trying to come to grips with this new information. “Salazar Slytherin was also one of them.”

“So that means Faith is related to three Founders?!” Willow gasped.

Swallowing, Helena shared a knowing look with Edison, which wasn’t missed by her granddaughter, or the fascinated Reeves. “Yes. But you see, just as Rowena and Godric were responsible for forming our Wizarding world today, so too was Salazar. Unfortunately not all of it was good.”

Mirthlessly snorting, Faith responded. “Naturally.”

Helena gently gripped her granddaughter’s hand. “Faith! None of this changes how I feel about you or our belief in you! None of this! In fact, it only elevates my opinion of you!” When Faith returned Helena’s earnest look with cautious hope, Helena continued. “You are a true Heir of Hogwarts. As close to…Wizarding royalty as possible. And may very well be responsible for challenging, perhaps changing the Wizarding world, and all their Pureblood nonsense!”

“You see Faith. Salazar Slytherin broke away from the Founders because he firmly believed in blood purity. And since that time, his followers have done everything possible to visit this oppressive philosophy on the Wizarding community. It was one of the reasons wars have been fought, families have been slaughtered, and bright, valuable wizards and witches were killed.” She paused to allow that to sink in. “It is the reason why tensions are currently brewing now.”

“You can change all that since you are the **true** Slytherin Heir.”

A throat was cleared stemming any further discussion as all their attention shifted back to Reeves. “Now, Ms. Rosenberg. It is your turn.”  
  
Frowning, Willow looked at him in confusion. “But I’m not –“

“We here at Gringott’s, have all manner of information and we offer our services to all magical and mundane. We are not wizards, but we **are** magic. Someone as powerful as the Red Witch of Sunnydale is as well. Let us see from whence it began.” Willow looked fearfully at Faith, who was back to glaring at Reeves, before the Slayer-Witch looked at her friend in support.

“It’s ok Red. If he pulls any funny business, I’ll be using that knife on him.”

“Really, dear, must you threaten the Gringotts’ staff? Helena rhetorically asked.  “Go ahead Willow. It’ll be fine.”

With some hesitation, Willow held out her hand to be pricked. Again lines began to flow and ebb, but this time the lines started to glow green, and then it began to sizzle and burn. Reeves leaned back, looking fearfully at Willow, and a tension-filled Faith, before returning his attention to the paper. When the smoke cleared, only two words appeared.

Reeves cleared his throat again, trying to gain some equilibrium. These people have caused him no amount of consternation. “Apparently, you have been Marked.”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Faith exclaimed.

Wide-eyed, even as tears began to form, and trickle down her cheeks, she whispered, “I –I thought… I was no longer--”

“Willow, what’s wrong?”

She quickly wiped her cheeks, while Edison handed over a handkerchief. “Thank you.” She gathered herself before answering Faith’s question. “It means, I am now the servant of the Goddess Hecate… or at least I think its Hecate. I thought she’d abandoned me.” She sniffled. “I guess she didn’t.”

Reeves jumped in to answer. “Actually, there are two.” He shifted the parchment around to show his captive audience. There were two words: Hecate and Athena.

Next, Reeves hopped off his chair, walked over to a wall, flicked his wand in an elaborate motion, placed his hand upon a square onyx rock, and suddenly four wooden drawers popped out. He opened the drawers and retrieved six large skeleton keys. Reeves then turned to his guests handing them each a designated key. These are the keys to your vaults. Ms. Ravendor, Ms. Rosenberg. You each will have two keys. Do not lose it.”

All the occupants in the room stood up. Reeves went to his desk, rounded up the Lineage parchments, and carefully folded each of them into an envelope. “It is Wizarding law that all results of a Lineage Ritual be sent to the Ministry. I imagine that there are… other considerations before they are notified?”

Helena shared yet another look with Edison, before casting her gaze to her granddaughter, and Willow. Sighing, she responded. “Indeed.”

There were serious political implications to consider, particularly with the unrest brewing here. Their advantage is that they had a dual-citizenship with the American Ministry of Magic. Not to mention that the American Undersecretary was a relative of the family, so they felt confident that Cerise would look after their interests if the British Ministry should prove… difficult. Add that the Slayer and Watcher’s Council had state leaders on speed-dial, and they should have adequate protection available if needed.

“However, I would ask that you send a notice to the American Ministry and Slayer and Watcher’s Council first, before notifying the British Ministry. In addition, Willow will need to register with the American Ministry. But the Council will take care of that.”

“Umm, why would I need a key or keys?” Willow questioned, needing to focus on something simple because it felt as if her brain was about to overload.   
  
Reeves replied. “Follow me. Gringott’s has been in existence for eons and have provided services for various magical creatures. To answer your question, gods and goddesses mated, even with humans, and produced off-springs, they also designated others as their emissaries, gifts or curses were bestowed on certain bloodlines, objects, treasures, texts, and weapons needed to be secured. Gringott’s fulfilled this role. Or perhaps it is simply that you have proved yourself worthy enough to be noticed. Mayhap a combination of things” They walked down another marbled hallway, until they came to what looked like an elevator.

“Nevertheless, you have been Chosen.” When the doors swished open, it opened into a dark, cave-like atmosphere. Standing next to what looked like a mining cart, was another goblin holding a lantern holding open the door into the cart.

Reeves motioned his clients into the cart. “After you.”

Willow and Faith looked around the darkened passageways. Once everyone settled into the cart, Helena warned. “You might want to hold on tight.” And with that the cart shot off like a dart. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Wishing You Were Somewhere Else Doesn't Make it So...**

[Albus Dumbledore is still alive even though this scene takes place after he was killed]

Malfoy Manor

 

Severus hurried down the hallway before pausing momentarily to collect himself near the doorway, and then calmly walked into the room. The room was dark and oppressive which wasn’t helped by the giant boa constrictor snake slithering along the floor. A long table, surrounded by a group of dark-cloaked individuals with darker intentions, dominated the room. An unusual, yet powerful, bald wizard sat at the head of the long table watching as Severus walked into the room. But the most striking thing about the scene was the floating bruised and bloodied woman hanging above the long table.

Severus’ attention on this macabre tableau was interrupted by bald-headed wizard’s voice. “Ah, Severus. So glad you could join us this fine evening.” He intently watched as the Potions’ Master settled himself in a chair. “What news do you bring about the Boy?”

For the next few moments Severus delivered news about the status of Harry Potter, the efforts of Dolores Umbridge to discredit and generally terrorize the boy. Only Yaxley chimed in, attempting to dispute Severus’ report. A few Death Eaters didn’t care for Severus since he was a half-blood, in addition to questioning his loyalties.

“And what of the girl? The Mudblood?”

“My Lord?” He suspected, but one could never assume anything when it came to Voldemort.

“This… Hermione Granger. They say, Harry would not have survived thus far without her brilliance. Is this… true?”

This time it was Bellatrix who screeched in amusement. “A Mudblood?!”   
  
“Now, now Bellatrix. There is… bravery and there is cunning. I believe this… _Muggle_ fulfills the later. Even Wormtail is somewhat cunning, just not necessarily intelligent.” This time he focused his eerie red eyes on his most faithful and fearful Death Eater. “That is why you will be responsible for killing her.”

Bellatrix evilly tittered in excitement. “My pleasure. Thank you my Lord.”

“Now, we have a guest for tonight’s festivities. Chasity Burbage. She teaches our young ones Muggle Studies at Hogwarts.” He reveled in the sounds of disdain, disgust, and anger. “She believes that Muggles are not very different than witches and wizards.” Another round of gasps and shrill laughter sounded around the room. “Wizards, she says must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic.” He paused enjoying ratcheting the tension and the ridicule. “The dwindling of the Pureblood is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable thing. In fact, she would have us all mate with Muggles.”

During all this, Severus ignored the pleadings from Chasity to save her, locking down tight the compassion and horror of this moment. But not only could he not do anything, he would **not** do anything to threaten the overall mission Dumbledore gave him. Another life, more blood he’d have to live with.

He watched stoically as Voldemort yelled “Avada Kedavra!” The deadly green light jetted out from his wand, striking Chasity Burbage, ending her life. Her body fell with a thump on top of the table, her face still wet with tears. “Nagini,” he called to his snake, “dinner.”

“Now, onto other matters. Pius, have you been able to gather any information regarding that spell from last night?”Unknowingly he was referring the spell Helena performed on Faith to confirm her Ravendor lineage.

“Ahh, no, my Lord. Other than there are rumors… it did not originate within the area.”

“Was Harry Potter or Dumbledore involved?”

Pius swallowed thickly. The Dark Lord did not tolerate failure of any sort. “Not that I’m aware of, my Lord.”

“Do you have anything useful to share, Pius? Surely I didn’t make you Undersecretary of the Ministry only for you to be a disappointment.” He narrowed his gaze, coldly assessing his politician. “Find me information or I will find someone else who can.”  
  
“Yes, my Lord.”

And from there it was more strategy, more errands, more orders to terrorize, undermine, threaten, and kill throughout the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Severus wondered yet again, if he’d have the strength to see this through. He knew he must – the Wizarding world was counting on him to do so. 


	12. Chapter 12

**What's Behind Door #1**

Faith stood in front of her vault, the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor vault, along with Helena, Edison, and Willow. “I need you to place your palm at against this, please,” Reeves requested.

Faith cautiously put her hand in place and suddenly shifting and clicks sounded throughout the area. What previously looked like an impenetrable slab of stone, went through an impressive series of clicks and locks, until a door slithered open, and what was revealed was astonishing. Aside from seemingly never-ending piles galleons and knuts, were an impressive array of objects, jewels, and three peculiar boxes in the center; from large to small sitting atop one another.

“Wow. Well… Faith, I think it’s safe to say, you don’t have to worry about staying in crappy motels again.”

Edison turned his attention to Reeves. “May we please only have a full accounting of monies. We will compile an accounting of the other objects.”

Reeves agreed.“Now, Ms. Rosenberg, please come with me.”

Willow started to turn green again. The ride down was preposterous; how anyone stayed inside that cart was beyond her. “Do I have to?”  
  
“The Goddesses do not designate just anyone as their emissary. It is wise to know what one is getting into.”  Willow looked at Faith who was busy looking picking and putting down various objects throughout her vault.

Helena walked over to her, placing her hand on Willow’s arm. “Edison can accompany you, if you’d like.”

Nodding her acquiescence, Willow and Edison walked over to the cart for another ride. Meanwhile, Faith finally came to the boxes that had initially peaked her interest. She could… feel something from them. _Something_ calling to her. She looked up at her grandmother with a questioning glance.

“What is it Faith?”

Holding her hand over the top box, the smallest box, Faith replied, “I can feel somethin’ callin’ to me. It’s wicked powerful. But… “ Faith struggled to find the words to explain it.

“It feels familiar.” Helena answered, watching as Faith nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what it feels like.” She paused, her hand reaching down to open the first box. “How did you know?”

“Because my extraordinary granddaughter, that is a sign of an Heiress. Their blood runs strongly in you.” Faith allowed a moment, a very brief moment of pride to swell within her. _How cool is that_?! she marveled. When Faith pressed her thumb against a button of the top box, which she assumed opened it, a hiss sounded, followed by a prick of something sharp against her finger. She whipped her hand away, pressing the small wound against her lips.

“Ow! Geez, how much blood am I gonna have to give up before I get outta this creepy-ass place?!” She complained. 

Chuckling Helena sidled next to Faith, as she lifted the lid. Inside it glowed purple because sitting on a mound of crushed velvet, the color of sand, was a ring.

A smooth, dusky, copper-colored ring, scripted with intricate designs along the band, in a language indecipherable to Faith. In the middle of it sat a brilliant, glowing purple jewel. She shared a look with her grandmother, who simply smiled at her.

“We’ll get a discreet jeweler to assess the ring. Perhaps even someone from the Department of Mysteries. But I suspect that it was crafted by both your more… compassionate ancestors.” At Faith raised eyebrow in question, Helena replied, “Blue and red, makes purple. However it’s just speculation on my part.”

“I think I’ll go with that. You’re pretty smart Grams and pretty knowledgeable about this stuff, so chances are you aren’t too off-base.”

Patting her granddaughter’s shoulder in good humor, Helena asked, “Well aren’t you going to put it on?”

With a hint of reluctance and caution, Faith lifted the heavy ring from its resting place, before sneaking a glance from grandmother. “You sure?”

Her gaze softened, her love for her granddaughter filled her chest, seemingly warming her up from the inside. “You are the true Heir, Faith. You’re more than qualified.”

With a deep breath, Faith slowly and carefully slid on the ring on her right hand, index finger. It was a perfect fit, but Faith was too busy noticing its effects. Like glass being filled with warm liquid, the ancient magic coursed through her veins, her heart thundering in her chest. Unbeknownst to her she began to glow, lighting up from the inside, her hair flying about as if an invisible wind was flowing around the chamber. The magic that had been building inside Faith settled, flowing more smoothly, becoming patient, almost sentient, and realized that its host needed training. It also realized that its host was the Heir, honorable and worthy enough to use the magic responsibly and for the good of the Wizarding world.

When the glow settled down again, Faith shivered, enjoying the sensations. “Whew! That was almost as good as sex.” Startled that that just came out of her mouth in front of her grandmother, she immediately began to backtrack. “I-I mean tha-“  
  
Laughing, Helena waved away Faith’s apologies. “Faith, you’re a beautiful young woman. Of course you’ve had sex. Hopefully you’ll be more… circumspect about your future partners. After all, you will not be able to keep your identity under wraps for long.” After all, Helena had her own wild days keeping her honest.

“Now, open the other two.”

Refocusing on the final two boxes, each larger than the other. Again, another pin-prick to verify Faith as the Heir, before the second box opened. Inside sitting on crushed blue velvet, sat a large tome; leather-bound, with blue and grey accents, about 3-inches thick, and a fearsome-looking raven on its cover. There was no title. Sneaking another supportive look from Helena, she cautiously opened the cover. Flowing cursive script filled the page. Suddenly Faith found her hand with the ring hovering above the page. What happened next more than mind-blowing. Words: ancient and powerful flowed up into hand, in another language, and danced up her arm, up along her shoulder, until flowed into her head, settling deep inside her brain designated for memories and recall. Equally fascinating was the hole that appeared in the middle of the page.

In its place was a necklace, with a round object and a tiny hour-glass at its center hanging on it. When she heard Helena gasp, she turned towards her.

Helena’s hand covered her mouth, her lavender eyes round in disbelief. When she removed her hand, she pointed at the object. “That, my dear is a Time Turner.”

After that was a brief discussion about what a Time-Turner was and how very rare they were. Following that, was opening the remaining box, which was the largest; long and wide. Faith had a sniggling suspicion it was a weapon.

And it was. Sitting a bed of crushed red velvet laid a sword. At the end of the pommel was a figure of a lion. Very different from the _Sword of Gryffindor_ , this one was more delicate, yet equally, if not more impressive. Made with an all-black metal Faith couldn’t discern, with red and gold accents along its length. When Faith wrapped her hand around the handle, once again she found her fingers pricked, but when she tried to pull her hand away, something wouldn’t let her.

Both women watched as her blood ran up the length of the dark blade, accentuating runes and coloring them red. By the time it was completed, it was a sword unlike anything Faith had ever felt, and she absolutely loved it!

“I believe that no one else will be able to wield this sword, save the next Heir.” Sitting next to the sword was its scabbard; again, dark leather with red and gold accents, along with a black lion at its center.

Giving it an experimental swing, she enjoyed its balance and lightness. “I think I’m gonna call it the Black Lion.” She looked over at her grandmother who could barely contain her glee and pride.

“I think it’s brilliant, dear. Now, grab your things. Here is a pouch for your money. The galleons – the gold coins, are the most valued. Then it’s Sickles, followed by Knuts. Grab more galleons, a handful of sickles, and a few knuts. That should be more than enough to tide you over as we buy your supplies.”  
  
Frowning as she grabbed multiple handfuls of these galleons, she asked, “What supplies?”

“Well your wand for one. Some books to help with your magical training. And whatever else peaks your interest.”

Faith snorted. “Too bad Buffy or Little D isn’t here. They’d have an orgasm at the thought of shopping in a place like this.”

Settling her weapon onto her hip, she gathered up other boxes, her two pouches of money, and followed Helena out of her vault. Faith decided to wait another day to visit her **_other_** Vault. She’d had enough surprises, blood-loss, and adjustments for today. Plus she wanted to know more about this Salazar guy before opening the vault. They also decided to wait for Willow upstairs, once they made a stop at her grandmother’s vault, since neither of them wanted to be here any longer than necessary. Helena stayed a few moments grabbing another pouch of coin, in addition to a case, which her granddaughter kindly carried for her.

“That is valuable information for our protection.”

Once they arrived upstairs, Helena decided to wait for Edison and Willow in a more conducive environment. She requested that the Goblins notify Edison and Willow of their whereabouts and walked out into the sunshine. But Faith felt as she were an entirely different woman than the person she was when she walked into Gringott’s earlier that day. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Goddesses and Cryptic Messages...**

Willow found a vault almost similar to Faith’s, piled high with coin. But hers was dotted with impressive ceramic busts of what were likely gods and goddesses. There was furniture, golden writing implements, books upon books. But it was the glowing orb of light sitting up a slender, waist-high pedestal base that drew Willow. Drawing closer, the red-head saw it was a square glass case, with a thick bracelet sitting inside on a pillow.  As if on autopilot, Willow placed her hands on the glass case; it warmed, becoming almost too hot, then it became too hot, but Willow could not lift her hands. It was if some invisible force was holding them in place. The pain was excruciating, soundless screams erupted from her throat, and sweat broke out along her brow, neck, and back, making her shirt stick to her skin.

Finally when it grew so bright she had to close her eyes, the heat instantly disappeared, and whatever force holding her hands lifted. With a loud gasp, she lifted her hands only to see that her palms had become pink with decorative lines, almost like she’d been scoured and branded. Well she was branded. It was also at this time that she noticed that the glass case had disappeared leaving a bracelet in its place. Her hands felt tender and sensitive. Perhaps this was the Goddesses way of truly Marking her. She didn’t know, but **damn** if it didn’t hurt.

Reaching out, this time Willow was much more… cautious about placing her hand on something. The bracelet was thick and heavy. Decorative writing and symbols ran along its length. The writing she suspected was Greek, maybe even Sumerian. Again she found her hands moving, shifting to place the bracelet upon her left wrist. It fit perfectly, until she felt pin-pricks along her skin.

“Ow!” she exclaimed. Edison was busy with his own vault; Willow insisted she could handle things on her own. Mostly it was because she suspected that her bout with darkness might need some kind of assurances or repentance from her, and she didn’t need an audience for that. Suddenly she began feeling light-headed, the room started to feel light and airy. It was if time stood still, the sensation similar to when she did astral projection, or like that one time Faith talked her into taking a puff from a joint on one of their last nights in Sunnyhell.

When her eyes grew droopy with lethargy, a vision appeared. A woman appeared; actually two women.

 

 _Hello Willow_.

_We have been watching you for a very long time. For a few moments we thought we had lost you to the Darkness. But you fought bravely and persistently until you triumphed. We could not have asked for a better Sorceress. When you were born, the Fates envisioned great things from you, at great peril. The mark of a true warrior is courage, strength, cunning, and wisdom, particularly during your darkest hours._

_But your role is now changing. You are our Emissary. Darkness threatens once again. But this time it is magic in form. Dark magic, but magic nonetheless. You, the Heir, the Guardian, and the Boy will be the deciding factor. It is a great responsibility, beset by the temptation for greater power from those with more experience, deviousness, and ruthlessness._

_However, there are objects in this room that will help you prepare, as well as give you the gifts necessary to be our Emissary. Simply place your hands upon them and it will be made available to you. The Dark Lioness has found a worthy companion in you and you in her. You will need each other. Your old life will not be as much help; the magic is different, and they would be vulnerable. So be cautious on how much to utilize and expose them. However, she is not your Mate – that will come from the unlikeliest of places._

_The Dark Lord is building his forces and his Power. Find the Guardian. Love will find you – or so our sister, Aphrodite claims. Good luck Emissary, we could not be prouder._

Like a video reel that had run its course, both the vision, and Willow’s out-of-body-dizziness suddenly ended. Once Willow gave herself a moment to steady herself, she busied herself with finding, and following the Goddesses instructions. Still wearing the bracelet, she began grabbing a few books, along with some coin. That was when red-head learned that it was no ordinary bracelet (if a bracelet made by two Goddesses could be … _ordinary_ ). She discovered that if she concentrated, the bracelet could shift and grow until a lethal-looking gladius erupted from it. Willow also discovered that when she was ‘talking’ with the Goddesses, she was Marked further; an elaborate tattoo flowed up her arm depicting a deer, a bow and arrow, along with the symbols for moon, fire, water, and earth.

She suspected it went all the way up her arm and shoulder. Willow knew Faith would appreciate it. Nevertheless, she had enough of caves, vaults, rituals, and these goblins.

 

* * *

 

Forty-five minutes later, Willow and Edison walked into **Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour**. Faith and Helena were busy sharing a mountainous glob, or multiple globs of ice cream. Faith waved them over.

The Slayer handed over a spoon. “You look like you need some. I suggested whiskey, but grandmother vetoed it.” Faith grinned, her dimples standing out in sharp relief. “Plus I want ya to come with me to get my wand.”

Humming in appreciation at the chocolate-peanut butter flavor exploding her mouth, Willow swallowed the icy-sweet treat before responding. “As long as we don’t have to deal with anymore caves or magical-riding carts.”  
  
Pointing out towards a small building up a ways, Faith assured her. “Right there. Place called…?” she looked in askance at Helena and Edison.  
  
Helena was sitting contently in her seat after eating more ice cream than she should have. “Ollivander’s, dear.”

Faith noticed the new jewelry on her friend’s wrist. Plus she could feel the power emanating from it. “Stuff a cork on that power Red, before you get noticed. But I like the bling. We’ll do a show n’ tell later.”

“Faith why don’t you and Willow go ahead. Edison and I have a couple errands to run that I’m almost certain will bore you. Don’t worry, we’ll find you as long as you stay on this street.”

The Heir had been waiting for the ‘green light’ on being let off her leash. She barely let Willow shovel another spoonful of her ice-cream in her mouth, before grabbing her hand, and dragging her out of the store. Helena and Edison chuckled when they heard Willow yell her granddaughter’s name. But both grew solemn and weary.   
  
Brushing a hand down his face, Edison gathered his reserves. “The list of what needs being done grows longer. Not to mention, things are getting… dicey here.” His eyes grew grave and concerned. “But how is it that Faith is,” he furtively looked around the shop for any potential eavesdroppers , but decided to be more discreet, “ ** _his_** … blood?! Do you know what that means?! Or what they’ll do if they find out?!”

Sighing heavily, Helena replied, “I know. But I suspect that we’ve been _called_ here, not only to find our lost family member, but because we are needed for this war, for Britain. We’ve been absent long enough.” She paused to sip her coffee. “However, it doesn’t mean we won’t be prepared to leave if it is needed. We will use our resources, protect our interests, and… we have something even more important: the Heir and her red-headed friend.”

“Not to mention, I suspect her other friends, the New Council will be a key support.”

“Maybe. But I suspect this is a battle… for our Faith… and Willow. 


	14. Chapter 14

_**And So It Begins** _

 

The bell rung above the doorway as they walked into the shop. Silence and dust met them, and a certain agelessness permeated the large room. There also appeared to be no one working. Alert, her hand on the pommel of her new sword, which Willow wanted to know everything about; Faith continued scoping the area, looking for signs of anyone in the shop.

Suddenly an old man appeared, with weird silvery eyes. “I wondered when I’d see you here. The Heir and the Emissary. Another may be joining you soon.”

Mentally rolling her eyes at more cryptic, mysterious pronouncements, Faith protectively stepped in front of Willow, the Heir asked, “You the guy who makes wands?”  
  
Walking closer, he stepped around the counter, approaching closer. “Indeed. The wand chooses the witch Ms. Ravendor. That much has always been clear.”  A measuring tape appeared in mid-air. “Which is your wand hand?”

Frowning, Faith held her left hand. “My left.” At that the tape began measuring her hand, arm, head, even her shoulders, as the wand-maker went to his shelves, muttering himself.   
  
He returned with several long, flat boxes. He opened one and handed over a wand. “Give it a wave,” he instructed, and immediately took it away as an entire wall nearby exploded, sending boxes and wands spurting out like a recently opened bottle of shaken soda. “Nope. Definitely not.”

Almost an hour later, after a series of wands that gave varying degrees of disastrous results, he decided to pull out one his more ancient and unique wands.

He went deep inside his shop, disappearing from view for a few moments, before returning with a long, cherry-wood box. “Hmmm, I wonder,” as he peered closely at Faith.

He picked up the box and gently blew on it to disturb the dust that had collected over the many, many years. Ollivander could almost feel the buzz from the power of its core emanating from inside the wand, through the box. He walked slowly towards a wary Faith. “Only one other person in history has owned a wand such as this. I thought it would never find another owner. Perhaps, it has found one in you.” And with that he gave it over with a slow reverence, allowing the Dark-Slayer-Witch to take it from him.

She laid it on the counter, preparing to open. Willow watched over her shoulder, instinctively knowing that this was **the** wand. Opening the case, inside was a slightly crooked wand, the color of ash. As soon as Faith touched it, she began to glow, golden-red sparks sprinkled around her. The Heir knew this was her wand.   
  
“Sycamore, with the hair of a Gryffin, and a drop of blood from an extinct poisonous serpent. An ancient, yet powerful wand – a bit recalcitrant,” Ollivander occasionally understated things, “unless it recognizes a worthy user. Congratulations, Ms. Raverndor… or is it Ravendor-Black?”

Scowling to indicate that that line of questioning was off-limits, Faith simply responded, “How much?”

 

* * *

 

Helena and Edison stepped out of the floo system that landed them at the entrance to the British Ministry of Magic. After brushing the soot off from their clothes, they came to an Auror check-point and once their identities were verified by their wands, they were permitted through. They walked forward into the huge marbled atrium, where they’d meet someone named Percy Weasley. Helena suspected that he was related to the red-headed Weasely family. She knew Molly when they were younger – Helena had attended Hogwarts for the first three years before her family moved to the States. Her mental musings was momentarily distracted by the sight of the Minster’s face. Helena internally scoffed at the huge banners filled with Cornelius’ face, lining either side of the famous Fountain of Magical Brethren.

“Really, Edison, could Fudge be anymore full of himself?!”

Earlier, after separating from Faith and Willow, they spent the next two hours corresponding with the American Ministry, as well as Giles and Dawn of the New Council. Cerise, Edison’s wife, who happens to be the Undersecretary of the American Ministry, was extremely delighted about Faith, and couldn’t wait to meet her. A tiny, seemingly delicate woman, she more than made up for it with a strong-willed personality, wisdom beyond her years, and a powerful magical core. Hailing from infamous American southern state, Louisiana, New Orleans to be exact, her family’s lineage was steeped in Native American and African magic; which consisted of understanding both dark and light magic. That was frowned upon in Britain, but it also made her a prodigious Auror, before becoming a member of the American Wizengamot, and then Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and then making her way up the American Ministry to become the Undersecretary. Fiercely loyal and loving to her family, respected and feared by her foes, she jumped at the chance to help Faith.

She coordinated with Helena to draw up all the necessary legal documents, granting Faith, Helena, Edison, and Willow diplomatic immunity, as well as politely-worded threats that if anything should happen to their people. In addition, they made official copies of Faith’s lineage. Considering the unrest by Voldemort and his followers – worshippers of Salazar Slytherin, they debated about revealing her granddaughter’s Slytherin lineage. After some discussion, it was decided that that information would be kept locked away within the American Ministry’s version of Department of Mysteries for safe-keeping.

They were here to see Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Both Edison and Cerise respected Madam Bones, claimed she was fair and no-nonsense; a far cry from that over-bloated idiot, Cornelius Fudge. They suspected they’d be forced, politely of course, into meeting with the Minister before they left the building. Like most politicians, Cornelius coveted anyone who might make him look good. Being in the good graces of the Ravendors would be helpful, particularly now, when his administration and the safety of the wizarding world at large, was being questioned.

Their initial strategy was to present and file their official copy of Faith’s lineage, as well as an official letter announcing their family’s British holdings and properties. Once the verification process was in order, they’d coordinate an official announcement to the public at some point. Apparently the Daily Prophet was still the outlet to facilitate these kinds of announcements – even if it was with that odious woman, Rita Skeeter. Helena noticed her slinking about when they arrived in the atrium. However, their true purpose was to assess the how deeply Voldemort’s nasty tentacles have reached within the Ministry. That will guide their next course of action regarding their family and Faith’s plans. Either the Ministry were allies or they’d been compromised enough to be enemies.

Cerise believed that this Amelia Bones would be cautiously honest about the state of affairs, if only to protect more innocents. Apparently the woman had a deep sense of honor and integrity; all ideal characteristics in Helena’s eyes. Not to mention, if anything should happen to either her or Edison, Faith and Willow might very well tear the Ministry apart way before Voldemort could.

 


	15. Chapter 15

_**An Eveing with the Blacks... or What's Left of Em'**_

__

Nervously Faith shifted around on the porch, before knocking on the door. It was whipped open by a pink-haired woman, with blue eyes. “Wotcher! Faith?"                  

Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, Faith nodded. “Yeah, that’d be me.” She peered at the pink-haired woman. “Tonks?”  
  
Grinning widely, while nodding, Tonks ushered her inside. “Yep. Welcome to our home.”

Instantly Faith noticed the male with hair similar to hers, a trimmed beard and mustache, he looked slightly gaunt and pale. He stood up, along with another woman with hair also similar to Faith’s, only a tad longer, a little lighter. Regal and tall, the woman slowly walked over to Faith.   
  
“You are most certainly a Black.” She reached out with her hands in greeting; lightly, but warmly enveloping Faith’s hand with both of hers. “Hello Faith, I am Andromeda, your Aunt.”

The male came to stand next to Andromeda, holding out his hand. “And I’m your father’s brother – Sirius.”

Hearing someone stumble behind her, she realized it was Tonks, whose hair was now lime-green. Faith watched as the woman straightened herself out before coming to stand next to Faith.

“That’s our Tonks, always announcing herself by stumbling over her own two feet,” Sirius amusingly declared.

“Yes, Nymphadora might be an expert in disguises, but stealth she is not.” Andromeda guided a cautious Faith over to a chair, “Please, sit. Would you like something to drink, are you hungry?”  
  
Sirius couldn’t take his eyes of his niece. He could see his brother in her from the way she carried herself, to the shape of her eyes. “For Merlin’s sake Andy, the woman just got here! Let her relax a bit before you start mothering her.”

“Mum, how many times do I have to tell you, it’s Tonks! You know how much I hate it when you call me Nymphadora!”

Focused on her niece, even though they were really cousins, Andromeda distractedly gave her standard answer to her daughter’s perpetual complaint. “Yes, dear. Now go call your father.”

Privately, Faith agreed with her now blue-haired cousin. “Ah, no thanks. I’m good.” She politely declined any food or drink.

Andromeda wanted to know everything about her, but knew they’d have to gain her trust. Plus, who knew how much she’d heard about the Black family. “Well, I’ll say this for Regulus, he makes beautiful off-spring. I understand you’ve recently moved to Britain? From where?” 

Faith smirked. “Ever heard of a place called Sunnydale?”  
  
At that moment Sirius had been taking a few sips of firewhisky only to sputter, choke, and spit it out upon hearing Faith’s last question. Coughing, he hoarsely replied, “Are you suggesting you lived there?!”

“Oi, do you know what happened?! We’ve been trying to figure out the details, but it’s like everything disappeared!” Tonks followed up.

As she watched Faith being pelted with questions by her other family members, Andromeda began to notice something. Suddenly Andromeda gasped. “You were there!”

Holding up her hands to stem the flow of questions and comments, until Andromeda’s statement, and then complete stunned silence followed. Faith considered her new family-members. She gave an internal snicker; it seems her family has grown by leaps and bounds. “Ever heard of the Slayer?” At their nods, she continued. “Well put what you know about Sunnydale and the Slayer… ”

Andromeda’s eyes widened, “You’re the Slayer?!”  
  
Sirius sputtered. “What?! I thought that was a myth?!” Then he started laughing. “Boy, would mother have a fit!”

“Can we get back to the ‘myth’ part? I seriously thought the Slayer was a legend the Ministry cooked up to scare us.”

This time it was Faith who started chuckling. “We purposely scare lots of things; witches and wizards ain’t one of them. Or at least the nice ones.”

Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose, beginning to realize just what kind of life her ‘niece’ lived. “Are you telling me that you were responsible for destroying the Hellmouth?”

“There’s also that Spell. The Ministry is still trying to figure out its caster,” Tonks anxiously replied.

This time the Slayer held up her hands. “Whoa! That wasn’t me. Or at least I wasn’t the one who casted it. But she was part of the group who destroyed Sunnydale. And yes, I am the Slayer. Well now one of many. First it was just B and me, and now there are hundreds, possibly more. ”

Andromeda held up her hands to halt further discussion. “It is clear that Faith has an extraordinary story to tell. Why don’t we let her.” She calmly poured herself some tea, trying to stem the tide of emotions; because she had a sniggling suspicion that her niece’s short life had been complicated, perhaps even worse.  After all she was a Black, and their family was intimately familiar with tragedy and pain. But she needed more information before she could voice her suspicions. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

Faith’s stomach roiled, but she refused to acknowledge the fear of rejection. She had people that loved her now; accepted her even with all her faults, and that was a gift she had to keep reminding herself of. “I guess I’ll start with the South-Side of Boston…”

And from there, Andromeda, Sirius, and Tonks listened to a tale of pain, disappointment, loneliness, tragedy, and betrayal, and most importantly, redemption. Andromeda was furious! “Faith…” she shook her head, as she tried to quell her tears –  Sirius and Tonks were doing more than enough crying for her. Rolling in eyes in exasperation at them, she grasped her niece’s hands. “You are an extraordinary woman. After all you’ve been through… I cannot imagine what you’ve had to go through, and yet you triumphed, pushed back the darkness. And I can tell you the Blacks are very familiar with the darkness.”

She shared a knowing look with Sirius. But it was her cousin who voiced their suspicions. “Faith… you said that it was when your friend did that Spell that you realized you had magic. Are you saying you had no magic prior to that day?”

Frowning, Faith remembered her conversations with Helena and the vague memories as a child of a glass suddenly exploding or a ball flying across the room. And then suddenly life was different. Her mom became depressed and a drunk, the guy with the long dark hair never came by again, and then came the emptiness.

“Not sure. But I didn’t have it for most of my life and I didn’t remember any magical incidents until after Willow did the Spell.”

Suddenly Sirius exploded from his seat, muttering obscenities and threats. “If I find out that anyone in our family had a hand in this…”

Andromeda laid a calming hand on Sirius’ arm, before redirecting her attention towards her niece. “Faith do you recall if you or your mother had any… _unusual_ visitors?”

Frowning in confusion, the younger woman replied, “Ah, yeah. I told Grams this story about when I was like four or five, I remember my mom gettin’ into it with these two scary women; one kinda heavy-set and the other lean. And they wore black, lots of black.”

This time it was Andromeda who erupted in anger. “Those bloody vultures! I knew it! I…” her chest heaved with emotion. Both Faith and Tonks stared at the older woman as she paced furiously back and forth, sparks of red light sprinkling from her. Sirius’ face turned red, his hands clenching and unclenching.

He moved to stoop down in front of Faith. “You poor kid. I’m so, so sorry. If I’d known what they were up to I would’ve put a stop to it. You can be sure of it.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake Sirius! How?! From Azkahban?!” This time it was Faith who stood up, stepping in front of Andromeda, stopping her in her tracks.

She gently gripped her aunt’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s cool. Did you have anything to do with it?” At Andromeda’s negative response, she continued. “Then you ain’t got no beef from me.” When she saw her aunt’s look of confusion, she followed with, “I mean, you’re all right with me.” She then returned her attention to her uncle.  “So you wanna tell me what the hell were you doin’ in Azkaban?”

Sighing, Sirius walked over towards his abandoned drink, picking up to drain the remaining liquid, before responding. “Several years ago, I was what was called a Secret Keeper. Meaning, I was responsible for keeping an important secret, which in this case was a location of certain individuals. They were my best friends: James and Lily Potter, along with their newborn son, Harry, and another couple, Alice and Frank Longbottom. They were also at the top of Voldemort’s hit-list.” He paused, allowing the memories to wash over him; his regrets, his grief, and his mistakes.

“Instead of following my instincts, I thought I’d be ‘cunning.’ I trusted this secret to someone whom I trusted more than I should have… over someone else who has always been there for me. I allowed my insecurities and fears to overcome my better sense. This someone, Peter ‘Wormtail’ Pettigrew, revealed the whereabouts of my friends. Voldemort sent Bellatrix – whom we’ll talk about momentarily, and other Death Eaters to kill the Longbottoms, but they ended up torturing them to a comatose state. They’re still being cared for in the same state at St. Mungos.” He allowed tears to fill his eyes, while he took another swallow of the fiery liquid.

“It is only because the Aurors arrived that they didn’t get a chance to kill them. But it was Voldemort who personally killed James and Lily. He tried to kill baby-Harry, but somehow the spell backfired, hitting Voldemort, and destroying his body.” He sat heavily on the sofa, both Andromeda and Tonks sat on either side of him, lending their strength, support, and unconditional love. “When I’d learned what had happened, in a fit of rage I hunted down Wormtail, battled him in the middle of a busy street, and when a huge blast hit him, he’d turned himself into a rat.” Seeing Faith amused look, he added, “Fitting, yes I know. But he’d made the blast big enough to harm people nearby, killing twelve. He cut off his finger to make it look like he’d been killed as well.”

“Leaving you to take the fall,” Faith finished.

Nodding, he responded, “Yes. So I’ve spent the better part of twelve years in a nasty Wizarding prison.” But then he gave a small grin. “Only one person has been known to escape.” he winked at the Slayer, “me.”

This time it was Faith who laughed. “So the apple don’t fall far from the family tree: we got two escaped convicts in the family.” At Andromeda and Tonks’ looks of concern, she explained further. “But I got a Presidential Pardon.” She shrugged. “It helps when you literally save the world.” She grinned, her dimples standing out, reminding them how attractive she was.

Andromeda once again stood up. “Well I am looking forward to hearing everything. In the meantime, you can help me prepare lunch, and I’d also like to hear about… your American relatives. I understand that they could give the Blacks a run for our galleons.”

Thinking about the Twins, Cerise, and her Grams, Faith chuckled. “You’d be right. You’re looking at the Ravendor Heir.” She’d wait to tell them the rest until she got to know them a little better. But she was interrupted from telling them more when a pop sounded outside. Instantly her hand went to her the pommel of her sword, as she followed Sirius to the window to investigate. A knock on the door made them pause. Andromeda, with her wand out, and Tonks following her, also with her wand out, made ready to open the door. Clearing her throat, she inquired, “Who is it?”

A few moments of silence went by before a smooth, cultured, feminine voice responded. “It’s me Andy. Narcissa. I mean you no harm.”

Faith allowed the Slayer out a little, just in case she did. Clearly, Andy, Tonks, and Sirius were concerned that this Narcissa did mean them harm. She patted her aunt’s shoulder, motioning her out of the way. “I’ll handle this.” She pointed at Sirius. “You go stand by the kitchen. If you’re still on the-run, you’re gonna need some room to motorvate.”

With a long snick, she removed her sword, which elicited gasps from Andromeda and Tonks, plus a ‘whoa’ from her uncle. Alert, focused, she cautiously opened the door, standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

An elegantly dressed woman stared back at her. Her long hair was two-toned: black and blonde. But somehow it fit. She had the same sapphire-colored eyes as Sirius. Faith waited for her to state her business, until she grew impatient. “Can I help you?”

“You’re her, aren’t you?”

“Narcissa, is that really you?” Andy stood behind Faith, looking over her shoulder. She tapped the younger woman to move out of the way. “What do you want?” After all it had been close to twenty years since they last spoke. Not to mention, her husband was a known Death Eater, with her son, Draco was following in his steps. She also suspected that she was housing her oldest, crazy, psychotic sister, Bellatrix. 

“Please Andy… I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need a moment of your time.” Narcissa knew she had to talk fast because she had very limited time. Being out in the open certainly wouldn’t help either. As Andy wordlessly allowed her entrance, she redirected her attention to the young woman that opened the door. She had Black written all over her features.

Shifting her attention back to her sister, she allowed a few moments to take her in. It had been so very long. All of them had been very close. That all changed when Andy bravely defied her parents, took up with a Muggle-born wizard, and then eventually married him. Narcissa then took in her niece: Auror, Nymphadora Tonks. She was a rare Metamorphmagus.

Then Sirius walked out of the kitchen, his wand at the ready. “Really Sirius, I doubt I’d attempt to take on three people.”

Grunting, Sirius returned to where he was sitting. “And I doubt I’d trust anything coming from you.”

“Well, let’s get the threats outta the way now: you hurt them, and you’ll have to deal with me. I promise ya, you ain’t gonna be prepared for me,” stated Faith.

Narcissa nodded. “Duly noted.” She walked closer to her sister, having missed her terribly. Being around Bella made the loss and separation more excruciating. “Andy. It is good to see you.”  
  
“You could’ve seen me anytime,” Andromeda snapped.

Amazingly, the seemingly icy Narcissa found her eyes welling with tears. “I-I’m so sorry… but you left us!” Regardless of the _whys_ or _when_ Narcissa had felt very angry and betrayed by Andy. Her sister left her behind to deal with her abusive father, another sister who had become increasingly unbalanced, and their mother who’d literally withered away right before their eyes. She’d left her behind to pick up the pieces.

“I was disowned! I couldn’t come back! And then you AND our crazy sister ignored me, completely kicked me out of your lives. Do you have any idea what that was like?!” This time it was Andy who began to cry.

Faith gestured to both Tonks and Sirius to follow her in the kitchen. This conversation was meant to be private. Dragging her uncle into the kitchen while he clutched his bottle of firewhisky in one hand, and his wand at the ready in the other, they left the two sisters behind. As the two women, her… aunts(?) yelled it out in the other room, conversation eventually continued between the three remaining family members. The Slayer discovered that her uncle had a love for fast cars and motorcycles equal to hers. In fact, after revealing that he used to have a flying motorbike, they launched into a discussion about engines, turbo thrust, and all manner of interesting stuff for bike aficionados. Tonks became exceedingly bored… and worried. Sirius was more than a handful; he grew easily bored, was impetuous, quick to anger, and had a penchant for finding trouble. Casting a worried glance at her new cousin, she realized it was like watching a female-version of Sirius.

“Well, there’s only one thing you can be certain of being Black: it’s never boring.”

Later, after much yelling and sobbing, a swollen and red-eyed Andromeda came into the kitchen, followed by an equally red-eyed Narcissa. Narcissa was introduced to her new niece. Faith elected to not tell Mrs. Malfoy anymore information than necessary. Since learning about the various spells and curses that could extract information, or unwittingly compel someone to do something, it was agreed by her Grandmother, the Scoobies, G-Man, and even herself, to be very careful about revealing Faith’s ancestry or role as the Heir.

Following that, Narcissa explained her current… difficulties, and the search for not only Faith, but for someone called the Sorceress, and the Guardian. Of course, Faith suspected the Sorceress was Willow, and managed to quell any reaction to eliminate any suspicion. Narcissa may be finding a change-of-heart, but until Faith could fully trust her, while taking steps to remove herself from a situation that could potentially compromise any sensitive intel that might benefit Voldemort, the Slayer-Witch planned on keeping the ‘sharing and caring’ to a minimum. Perhaps she could help Narcissa with the situational-thing.

Noticing the minute lines of weariness and worry, Faith decided to extend an offer. “So, sounds like you could use an escape-route. The question is, are you ready and willing?”

A muscle twitched in the blonde’s cheek as she stared intently at Faith, her expression unreadable. Nodding, Narcissa brushed her hands against her skirt and stood. “Thank you for the offer. There are many things to consider, I’ll need some time to think it through.” She turned towards the door, “It was very nice to meet you Faith. I hope to have an opportunity to get to know you better. In the meantime, if it’s not too much trouble, I’ll send an owl with my decision in a few days.”

Everyone walked with Narcissa and Andromeda into the living room, watching as Andy escorted her sister to the front door. Even though they’d spent the better part of almost an hour yelling, screaming, and generally hashing out the hurt and pain leftover from years of separation, it was clear from their body-language that there were a long way from the loving relationship they had as younger women. But they were still sisters and Blacks, and this meeting reminded them of how deep that bond still ran.

Faith walked closer to the blonde woman. “Look, you do what ya gotta do. But if you suddenly need to disappear quickly, get to Gringotts, ask for this goblin-dude named Reeves, and he’ll get a message to me.”

However, they were interrupted by Tonks when she yelled, “hold on,” momentarily popped away and almost instantly returned, holding a polished red stone. She handed it to her aunt. It was an emergency _Portkey_ , transferring anyone holding it to secure location.

With another quiet nod, Narcissa redirected her attention to Sirius and Nymphodora. “It was very nice formally meet you,” she directed at Tonks, “and even if you’re looking a bit peaked these days, I’m glad you’re alive and well, Sirius.”

Turning to leave, she continued, “Do try to stay that way. We Blacks are becoming a rare breed.”

Walking with her sister out onto the porch, Andromeda watched as Faith prowled ahead of them, alert, scanning the area, giving her and Narcissa a final moment alone. “Try to take care of yourself Cissy. I know it cannot be easy with our… other sister.” She snuck a glance at her youngest sister, her proud, aristocratic profile staring off into the distance. “How is Bella these days?”

Even if they could no longer be in the same room without literally killing each other, or more precisely, Andromeda fighting for her life, she nevertheless, still loved Bellatrix. And she knew Narcissa did as well. “As well as can be expected.” Silence filled the space between them for a few moments, before Cissy continued. “Azkaban did quite a number on her. Well, that and… _Him_.”

Andy dismissed the welling of unnamed emotion, swallowing thickly before responding. “Yes, well living that kind of… life can take its toll on almost anyone.”

Even though Narcissa suspected that was a dig that included her, she mentally agreed. Walking ahead, giving a small smile of gratitude to the young woman, newly introduced to the few remaining Black family members, Narcissa bid them goodbye. “I’ll be touch.” Looking one last time at her sister, she said, “It was so very good to see you again, Andy.” And with that, she _Apparated_ away.

Andromeda’s husband arrived almost immediately after, kissing his wife, comforting her over her sister’s visit, yet being happy that they may be on their way to reconciling, he ruffled Tonks’ now bright-yellow hair, and hand-shaked a greeting to Faith.

“All right Padfoot,” Faith loved his nickname, “it’s time for you to return to Grimmauld. Place.”

__


	16. Chapter 16

_**Firewhisky Confessions** _

Hermione made avoiding both Umbridge and Malfoy’s goons a part of her training. Managing her new enhancements; strength, conditioning, quickness, heightened senses and abilities had become a full-time job. In addition to the marvelous library now available to her, Helga also gifted her with an impressive potion-making kit, complete with a diary from Helga Hufflepuff herself, surpassing the one that Harry stumbled upon in his which ended up being Snape’s. More importantly, attached to her living Guardian quarters was a massive training room, where a good portion of her own blood, sweat, and tears had already been spilled. She was reminded of her most recent training.

_Hermione felt as if her heart was about to burst from her chest. She stood, bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping, her chest heaving, and skin dotted and slick from sweat. She’d been training for a number of weeks now and instead of the training becoming easier, it seemed to increase exponentially whenever she seemingly mastered some skill. Logically Hermione knew this was enhancing her Wizarding and Muggle-fighting skills, it didn’t make it any easier to bear. She stood before her exacting taskmasters, in a secret training room connected to Hermione’s Guardian rooms._

_While her taskmasters were no longer a part of the physical world, their presence, their vast knowledge had been captured in some kind of powerful spell that activated their essences whenever a Guardian appeared. All documentation or relics associated with Merlin were almost non-existent within the Wizarding world and the few that remained were equally hard to find. It was said his last wizarding painting was locked away with some Pureblood family, but that has never been confirmed. Nevertheless the fact that his essence was locked within this room, actively interacting with and teaching Hermione spell-work would no doubt, set the Wizarding world on its ear._

_Practicing both ancient and modern defensive and offensive spells became part of her daily regimen. In addition, she was learning long-lost, powerful healing spells. Hermione discovered that knives would be her weapon-of-choice. Helga said she was a natural with the Guardian-gifted pair of a long, lethal-looking knives; each with its own scabbard. They were easy to hide and even easier to access if needed, which in the current Hogwarts-Wizarding world environment would serve her well._

_Her training took place in a huge, high-ceiling room, complete with all manner of both Muggle and Wizarding exercise equipment, along with a multitude of Muggle-weapons: with her twin blades, was a collection of fighting knives, a katana, bow and arrow, a staff, even a pair of boxing gloves – which spent a good portion of their time in Merlin’s hands. He was fascinated by the modern sport equipment. In fact, when he wasn’t putting Hermione through her paces, he was peppering her with questions about the modern world in general, almost rivaling Arthur Weasley’s obsession with all-things Muggle._

_And when he wasn’t he was yelling, “Again!” a word Hermione was sincerely beginning to hate, Merlin was often pondering complex theoretical magic and energy, challenging, debating, or passing along anecdotal stories of wisdom to the younger witch. Naturally, since learning was like second-nature to Hermione, she soaked it up. Many times, Helga would interrupt one of their many discussions that had gone late into the night, to either send Hermione off to bed, or because the Gryffindor’s attention was needed elsewhere in the castle._

_Helga on the other hand, was exceptionally kind, but stern, with exacting standards, insisting that doing it wrong could “lose lives.” But she also had endearing Luna-like moments of flights-of-fancy, often sending Merlin into infectious laughing fits. Hermione also discovered that Helga had a mind for strategy rivaling that of any Slytherin; always thinking several steps ahead of her opponent. She’d already given up playing Wizard’s Chess with her. It made Hermione completely reevaluate her entire perception of Hufflepuffs: **dismiss them at your own peril.**_

_In fact, she reminded her of Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. Hermione wished she could introduce McGonagall to these extraordinary essences. But she’d learned that Merlin and Helga only appeared to the person connected with the Guardian magic and she was sworn to secrecy regarding her access to Merlin and the Founder._

_Hermione could understand because she knew that if their existence, in their essence-form, was made public, there would be little to prevent the Ministry and other varying political factions from descending upon her. This would be made worse by the impending war and Voldemort. She shuddered to imagine what Voldemort would do if he learned of this information. Nevertheless, it meant she spent even less time with Harry and Ron. When Ron wasn’t begging her to help him with his homework, or helping to dodge Umbridge’s goons, then he was going on about Quidditch or stuffing his face._

_Harry on the other hand seemed more preoccupied than ever. Now that Dumbledore has gone into hiding, Hermione suspected that he was somehow corresponding with Harry. Plus if she knew her friend, in addition to Dumbledore, Harry was worried about Sirius. But that hadn’t prevented fHermione from occasionally catching Harry peering at her, as if there was something on her face, but she knew it was because she’d been showing minute physical changes due to her new status; changes that only her best friends, Ron at some point, will notice._

 

She was discovering muscles she didn’t even know she had as they firmed and formed, becoming shapely. Her appetite increased with her muscles to rival Ron’s. A fact he currently pointed out when she started in on her fourth helping of waffles under the astonished eyes of her Gryffindor friends. “Oi, Mione, since when do you eat like a Beater?!” He mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.  
  
“Ron, for Merlin’s sake, swallow before you speak! And I’m hungry!” Seamus, Ginny, Neville, and the Weasley Twins snickered at the ever-present bickering between the two friends. Harry was sullenly pushing around his food, his hand still angry and red from Umbridge’s special brand of discipline.

Shoveling another forkful of eggs into his mouth, he once again ignored Hermione’s repetitive complaint. “And while we’re on the subject, where’ve you’ve been disappearing off to at night?!” At this, even Harry perked with interest. He’d hadn’t been that self-involved to know that whenever Ron and him met up at night, expecting their female friend to join them, she’d send them a message with an excuse about another ‘important’ engagement. He’d been meaning to talk to her about what she’d been up to and about Umbridge – he speculated that he wasn’t the only one the pink-puff had been focusing on.

He snuck a considering glance at his friend and noticed… she was… different, but in a healthier way, as if she’d been working out or something. Her shoulders seemed a tad broader, sturdier, her hair sleeker, but it was her eyes… aside from the weariness emanating from them, they were not their usual bright-brownish color. Instead there seemed to be a golden glow emanating from them. Then there was that incident in Umbridge’s class earlier this week. Harry sat up straighter as all these clues started to weave together, intently focusing on his friend, until she seemed to know he was staring at her, suddenly pinning him with her eyes.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Flustered, he lightly blushed, shrugged, and grinned. “It’s just… we’ve missed you lately.”

“Look, let’s meet up at Hagrid’s after Charms and we’ll talk then.” She directed the question to Harry, flickering her gaze to Ron to let him know he was included, and predictably became disgusted at the sheer amount of food the red-head was shoveling in his mouth. And just as predictably she rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

Still grinning, Harry nodded. “Brilliant.”

Umbridge had been turning up the pressure on them, particularly Harry. They suspected because of his connection to Dumbledore, they knew he was being looked after by the great wizard, so as a means to get to Dumbledore, they targeted Harry. How Cornelius Fudge was allowing this kind of torture and harassment of its student-population was beyond Hermione. She sincerely hoped he hadn’t been _Imperiused_. _Surely the Minister of Magic would have preventive wards in place, right?!_ Hermione mused.

Suddenly the two Weasley Twins appeared, shoving people out of the way on their way over towards them, and then plopping themselves next to Hermione. She immediately became alert, hoping they weren’t about to test one of their pranks on her. She would hate to have to send them to the hospital wing.

Since she started training… well actually, since she agreed to be the Guardian, as well as completing the subsequent rituals attended to by Reeves from Gringott’s, with the startling essence of Helga Hufflepuff, with one of the few remaining and rare pictures of Merlin, whose essence also leaped out into the room, participated in the background, as Hermione officially became the Guardian. Imbued with strength, speed, heightened senses, and faster healing, she also discovered another… aspect: Animagus magic. She had yet to manifest into her Beast, but the clues were making themselves known quite frequently.

Hermione discovered that she’d already adopted some of her Beast’s… character traits: fearlessness (as Draco and his goons recently learned), quick to temper, intense protectiveness, and an internal heightened sense of trouble approaching. Merlin and Helga speculated that whatever her Beast was, it had strengthened her spell-work and dueling skills significantly. In fact, she could probably take Harry, and he was one of the best, if not the best dueler within the Hogwarts’ student body.

She’d even caused Umbridge to… pause, even walk away. A truly remarkable event considering that the hag had made it her mission to harass and terrorize both Harry and her at every opportunity. It was during her joke-of-a class: No-Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts that the scene played out. Since that the pink-mound –of-terror had been given full authority over Hogwarts after they’d run Dumbledore off, life had become almost unbearable for anyone who was a Gryffindor, and/or a friend of Harry Potter.

As Umbridge droned on, she once again found a target for her sadistic amusement – Harry. Asking him questions he would neither ever know, nor would care to know, she kept degrading and mocking him, until Hermione had had enough. Fury began to burn along her veins, eliciting an unconscious inhuman growl, startling Neville sitting next to her. When Umbridge walked closer to Harry, her wand at the ready in case he said or did something she didn’t approve, Hermione jumped to her feet.

“Leave him alone you horrid woman!” Gasps sounded all around the room that had grown deadly silent, every eye was locked on the brewing battle between Umbridge and Hermione. 

“How dare you?! Who do **_you_** ,” Dolores sneered disdainfully as a dig at Hermione’s blood status, “think you’re talking to?!” She stalked closer, her wand raised, ready to deliver what the Guardian was sure was going to be a painful reminder of what happens when you ‘broke the rules and were a Gryffindor.’

But Hermione stood tall, purposely stepping closer to tower over Umbridge. She squared her shoulders, one hand tightening on her wand, the other on the handle of one of her hidden Guardian weapons. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes began to glow, sleek muscles becoming tensed and ready, but lucky for her, were covered by her Hogwarts’ robes. “I think you need to consider that you are a horrible instructor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, that you gleefully torture and humiliate students, that perhaps, just perhaps, your activities have been recorded, and are waiting for that right moment to be sent to the proper authorities, and very, very angry parents.”

At that, the students gasped again, while the Slytherins began to look uncertain, but angry that the ‘mudblood’ was trying to ruin their **_fun_**. “So think very carefully about what **_you_** do next, **_Professor_**.” 

This time it was Hermione who sneered to illustrate what she thought of Umbridge’s designation. When the professor noticed Hermione’s glowing eyes, as well as heard the low, threatening, growl rumbling from Hermione’s chest, she found herself, pausing, fighting within herself internally, before strategically retreating. Umbridge realized that there was something… _different_ , something deadly menacing,and threatening about Potter’s Muggle friend, something she intended to immediately uncover, and then destroy.

Still staring at Hermione, Umbridge painted on her customary sickening-sweet smile; a smile that bespoke evil plans taking shape. “Class is excused.” And with that she turned around, walked over to her desk, stood with her chin held high, and watched with glittering, beady eyes as the students silently hurried out, but intently watching Hermione who just as intently stared back before walking out the door.  Both Ron and Harry, as well as other students set upon her like hyenas on a hunt, wanting to know _what the hell happened!_ or to convey how _bloody brilliant!_ she was.

Returning to the present, she was nudged on either side by George and Fred Weasley, and they began that irritatingly funny way of completing a sentence together.

Fred began. “We know-“

“-where you’ve..“

“-been hiding out.” finished Fred.

This time they both spoke at the same time “Now, do tell Granger.”

But before Hermione could utter a word in her defense, a tap on her shoulder made her pause. She looked up and there was her favorite teacher, Minerva McGonagall, looking wearier than ever. “Ms, Granger, if you would please come with me.”

Hermione grinned, knowing she was saved from an infamous Weasley Twins interrogation. “Sorry you lot, but I have an appointment.”  
  
Gathering her books, she followed her Professor and Head of Gryffindor House. Under the ever-watchful eyes of Umbridge, Hermione and McGonagall ignored the odious woman, continuing onto the professor’s office. Closing and locking the door, Minerva also casted a _Muffliato_ spell. She gestured for Hermione to take a seat as she removed her robes and hat, settling herself in her favorite chair.

The Deputy Headmistress leaned over to uncover a box of ginger newts, offering one to Hermione, who politely declined, and then poured herself a glass of her favorite firewhiskey, as well as a glass of butterbeer for the younger witch. After a few moments, Hermione squirmed under the considering gaze of her Professor. “Something is different about you Ms. Granger, something has changed. A change that has lit a fire under Umbridge for that stunt you pulled earlier this week.” This was said sternly, but the twinkle of delight in Minerva’s eyes said otherwise.

Hermione knew it would come to this; telling someone. But she knew it had to be someone powerful because this information could not fall into the wrong hands, or someone not as skilled in _Occlumency_ , unable to protect their minds from someone’s influence. McGonagall or Dumbledore, even Alastor Moody were the only ones she considered. Even though she’d planned to tell Harry and Ron, she’d only planned on telling them a very limited interpretation. As her mentor, Hermione had wanted to tell her professor first, because she knew that McGonagall would do whatever possible to protect her favorite student.

“I need you to assure me that this information will only be shared with someone you absolutely trust. At least until I say otherwise.” Obviously Hermione meant Albus.

Frowning in concern, McGonagall earnestly replied, “Of course!”

As for Minerva, she could only steal herself for whatever Hermione unveiled. She’d noticed the distance from her other classmates, the echo of powerful, very powerful magic emanating from the younger witch, and the fact that few of her belongings remained in her personal quarters. And then there were the small physical changes; changes that only those close to the younger witch would notice. When she’d cornered Hermione weeks ago, the younger woman had been hurrying through the corridors looking harried, yet Minerva had noticed a scabbard strapped along her lower-leg when Hermione’s robes had momentarily shifted. Granted Minerva fiercely frowned upon weapons of any sort, other than a witch/wizard’s wand, she was willing to overlook it considering the abuses being leveled on her cubs. So to say she was relieved that perhaps the young Gryffindor was finally going to clue the older witch on what was going on, was an understatement.

Running a hand through her hair, Hermione felt an intense relief to share something so… monumental. “It started almost two months ago. I was running from Draco and his goons, my hand was bleeding from one of Umbridge’s ‘lessons’, and I ended up along this corridor I didn’t recognize. My bloody hand brushed along a wall, and suddenly magic was activated…”

For the next two hours, Hermione told an astonished Minerva, who needed two more refills of firewhiskey, an amazing tale. A tale that Minerva knew she’d have to somehow, with Umbridge’s goons looking over her shoulder, immediately contact Albus. Hermione had just become a potent weapon against Voldemort!

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, an elf popped up at 12 Grimmauld Place. He tackled-hugged Albus Dumbledore, who’d been in conference with Sirius, Kingsley, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Tonks. 

“Greetings Headmaster! Dobby has to come find you. Mistress Minerva gave Dobby an urgent message for the Headmaster that Dobby promised to deliver.” Dobby handed Dumbledore a rolled up piece of parchment.

Albus stood up as he unrolled it and began to read. When he was finished, he looked over at the expectant faces, in particular Sirius and Kingsley. He wearily smiled. “It has begun.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This chapter contains lots of OCs since this is an introduction to the Ravendor Clan. However only a few will be re-occurring and important to the rest of the story: Helena, Cerise, Edison, and the twins – Kisona and Aleki.

**A Ravendor Welcome**

Faith barely kept herself from heaving whatever substance was in stomach after the recent Portkey travel to Ravendor’s Keep; Helena’s home. Today her grandmother was going to introduce her to the rest of the clan. They were having a bar-b-que, which after living on English fare, was _manna from the heavens_ , in Faith’s book.

They landed on a large expanse of greenery, dotted by ancient trees, the kind you could climb or build a treehouse. In the distance was a huge impressive colonial home. Done in an Italian-style palazzo, another smaller, L-shaped building in the background, nearby was a crowd of people milling about. Faith could hear the laughter, bantering, and general revelry from here. High above were various people zipping around on broomsticks, others were riding what appeared to be smaller and slimmer surf-boards.

As they approached, a small woman began running towards them, holding a spatula in her hand, while the other clenched the flowing skirt –the kind Tara used to wear. Skin the color of café-au-lait, long, wavy hair streaming behind, grinning widely, setting of perfect white teeth, she launched herself into Edison’s arms, laying a huge kiss on his lips, before wiggling onto the ground to grab Helena into a hearty hug.

When she finally, let go, she stood in front of Faith, peering up at her from her barely 5-foot frame. Her greenish-hazel eyes warm and kind, as she seemingly assessed the Slayer-Witch, she gently cupped her hands along Faith’s arms. “Well, let’s get a look at ya, chere. Aren’t you just the loveliest thang.” And then she engulfed Faith in one of her hugs, holding onto the younger woman tightly. “So good to finally meet you dahlin’. I’m your Aunt Cerise.”

Wanting to squirm from all the touching, yet somehow allowing herself to suffering the indignities because it didn’t seem as though Cerise would even notice, Faith coughed, as she attempted to extract herself from the dynamo. “Nice to meet ya too.”

Linking her arms with Faith and Edison, while Helena led them, Cerise turned her towards the revelers, some of whom were now watching the greetings unfold. “Almost everyone is here and they can’t wait to meet ya!”

Tinkling laughter followed, as Helena snuck a glance at her granddaughter. “Try not to let Cerise steam-roll you Faith. She’s like that with family.”

An amused snort met that statement. “She’s like that with everyone, Mama.”

“Oh hush, y’all. You can’t deny me the right be excited over Faith. We’d been lookin’ for her since foreva,” She insisted with soft as warm taffy, Louisiana Creole accent.

Off to the side of several long picnic tables were various instruments seemingly playing by themselves. The music was a combination of funk and jazz, and everyone dancing nearby appeared to be having a rollicking good time. Someone had charmed a rainbow nearby so that kids could slide down it and into a intermittently appearing pot of “gold” (which was really gold-foil wrapped chocolate or taffy). Astonishingly, there also appeared to be a group of Unicorns milling contently on the far-corner of the large area.

In addition, two of the largest grills Faith had ever seen were being watched over by two of the biggest dudes Faith had ever seen outside of a football game. Built like linebackers, they stood well over 6’5, wide shoulders, and glowing, honey-colored skin. Curiously enough they both wore colorful sarongs, the kind you see in places like Hawaii, along with football jerseys. One had his head shaved on the sides, but braided his hair long and thick down the middle, like a braided Mohawk. The other guy had a wild mop of long, dark, curly hair.

A little blonde-haired girl was yanking on the curly-top’s sarong, trying to get his attention. Other little kids were running about, laughing, interspersed by sparks of magic trickling from a few of them. A few of the teens had landed from whatever game they’d been playing to grab food or drink.

When they got closer, the noise of revelry became dimmer. Another woman with dark-blonde hair stood up with a smile of warmth and greeting. She approached Faith, all the adults, and most of the teens looking on. The littlest one’s were either shyly looking at the new family-member or were too involved in whatever shiny or tasty thing they had in their hand.

Stopping before Faith, she cupped her shoulders, looking over the Slayer-Witch. “Welcome to the semi-annual Ravendor bar-b-que.” She smirked as she watched Faith blush. “And welcome to the family, I’m your Aunt Tully. But everyone calls me Tully.” She gently enfolded Faith in her arms before the younger woman could protest.

Faith glanced over Tully’s shoulder at Cerise and her grandmother, noticing Cerise’s amused look, while Helena was busy rolling her eyes. “Watch out for this one Faith. Like someone else we know, she’s a bit of a rabble-rouser.”

By the time Tully let her go, Faith had gained a measure of equilibrium, only to lose it once again as she saw the group of people crowding around them, clamoring for Faith’s attention, until a path suddenly opened up in from of her, filled by the two hulking males she noticed earlier. “All right, all right. Let her breathe a little!”

The one with the mop of curly hair reached her first. Faith found herself staring up, way up over a barrel-like chest and wide shoulders. “So you’re the long-lost cuz?!” He motioned with his thumb at the rest of the milling crowd. “They don’t mean any harm. They’re just plenty excited, is all.” He held out a huge hand in greeting. “My name’s Kisona, your cousin.”

Suddenly he was shoved to the side to allow the other hulking male, with similar Samoan features, “And I’m his twin and the much better-looking cousin, Aleki.”

The twin-gleams of mischief relaxed Faith, seeing potential comrades-in-arms, she allowed her hand to be swallowed up by two large, calloused ones. “Nice to meet you. What’s with the sarongs?” She joked.

Kisona and Aleki shared a look before leveling mock glares at Faith. “I’ll have you know this is standard issue in our neck-of-the-woods.”

“Then what excuse do ya have for wearing a Giants and Eagles jersey? This is New England!” Faith fired back.

Suddenly Aleki whacked his brother upside his head. “I told you we should’ve gotten the Patriots!”

Rubbing his head, Kisona responded. “How was I supposed to know what the Muggles prefer? I only pay attention to Quidditch.” Then he glared back. “Hey, what’s your excuse?!”  
  
Sheepishly, he explained to his new cousin. “I was in hurry.”

Faith simply smirked at them before they both wrapped an arm around her, almost completely engulfing her with their hugeness, as they ushered closer to the tables, introducing more family members. Everyone warmly embraced her, it was a little overwhelming.  At one point, Faith had recently finished two-racks of bar-b-que ribs, a heaping portion of potato-salad, some cornbread, along with lots of sweetened ice-tea, plus the best peach cobbler she’d ever had, and was now balancing the cute little blonde girl from earlier, Samantha. She’d been given a quick tour of the compound, including her own set of rooms! The Ravendor library was worthy of Giles’ own personal library. There was also this stooped, gnarled looking crone name Po; it turned out Po had been with the family for an undetermined amount of time. She managed the huge chef’s kitchen. Faith didn’t know how she did it since she appeared to have weird, purplish-colored cataracts over her eyes.

There were also what appeared to be a battalion of Ravendor House Elves, a female Elf named Evie had been designated as Faith’s personal elf. When Faith tried to free Evie from her responsibilities, the elf simply scoffed, and said, “We have been honored to serve the great Ravendor Clan for centuries, by choice, just as I will serve you.”

Rolling her eyes, Faith wondered how Evie will interact with the cantankerous Kreacher, but shrugged it off for dealing with it another day. Faith also learned that one of her uncles – Cyrusm had a gift for working with magical animals –hence the pack of Unicorns. A tiny wet hand slightly yanked on her hair, again, reminding Faith of little occupant on her lap. Samantha was Tully’s daughter and was already showing signs of magic. They were both watch a ball floating in the air until a bell tinkled, silencing everyone. Helena stood in front.

“As always, I am thankful for the family coming together.” She paused, allowing the moment to sink in before making the official announcement. “As you know this is a special gathering; our Ravendor Heir has been returned to us.”

She looked on warmly at her granddaughter, enjoying the look of mild discomfort and the adorable little girl cupping Faith’s cheeks with her sticky hands. “A time of great strife and war is once again threatening the Wizarding world. Luckily it appears to be localized in Europe, more precisely in England.” She allowed quiet murmurings of concern going around before continuing. “However we have already taken steps to ensure the Ravendor legacy is secured. In addition, Faith is one of the world’s leading Warriors-of-Light and will be working with myself, the American Ministry, as well as the newly restructured Watcher’s Council.” More gasps and growing murmuring echoed among the small crowd.

Before Helena could continue on, Tully interrupted, directing her attention to Faith. “Wait, why would our Faith be worki--, Warriors-of-Light…” her eyes widened as her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her gasp. “You’re a Slayer?”

This time it was Cerise who stepped in. “Really Tully, you’re such a drama-queen! Yes, our Faith is a Slayer!” She proudly confirmed, all the while beaming at Faith.

As per every family in the universe, the one drunken uncle, with a long, white bikers’-beard, who’d been drunkenly snoozing, only caught pieces of Helena’s speech, warbled out, “Man the ballards, call in the Aurors—“  
  
“Oh be quiet, you ol’ fool. I see you’re neck-deep in honey-bourbon.” The wizarding version of bourbon, except it was a deep purple color, with honey-warming property, and a tad more potent than the Muggle version.

Faith simply chuckled; glad the attention was off of her for a moment. Plus old-man Uncle Palmer was a riot. Holding onto Samantha, whom she naturally called Sam, much to Tully’s dismay, Faith gathered her Slayer-courage and stood up, silencing everyone once again. “I just wanna thank everyone for their hospitality and kindness – even if you are wearing a Giants’ and Eagles’ jersey.” She glanced at her two strapping cousins who simply grinned at her in return, before continuing on. “And I appreciate the stories about my Ma. I didn’t have a lot to go on about her, so it’s nice to get a better picture.” Faith turned her attention to Helena. “And I wanna really thank Grandma Helena for not…” she swallowed thickly, “givin’ up on me, for findin’ me. I promise I’m gonna do right by you.” She then ran her gaze over everyone. “By all of you – even Unc Palmer the Lush.”  
  
Everyone laughed, charmed by the beautiful, long-lost Ravendor. The twins mother, another of Faith’s aunts, Aunt Nyssa, was a tall, slim Samoan witch, with streaks of grey in her midnight-colored hair, smiled warmly at the new family member. She was married to Aunt Jacks. Faith was discovering that aside from Helena or if instructed otherwise, all the older women were designated with the title Aunt. Anyone around Faith’s age or younger earned the title cousin. Mentally shrugging her indifference at the tradition, she focused on Nyssa.

The older witch chimed in with her lilting voice. “Bring more honey-bourbon and he’ll be mighty glad you’re here too.” More laughter ensued.

This time it was the other twin who spoke out. “Don’t think you’re running off to Europe without us, cuz.”

Raising a dark eyebrow in their direction, considering what were turning out to be her very likable cousins. “Well then I hope you can spar with those sarongs or you’re gonna give everyone more than a show of me kickin’ your as-” She halted, blushed, looking sheepish, “Sorry, er, butts.”

This time it was Cerise who looked worried, wondering if allowing the twins to accompany Faith as additional protection was sound idea, since they tended to be a tad mischievous and rash. She watched as the twins bounded over the young Slayer-Witch like eager puppies. She suspected Faith will be protecting more than just the Wizarding world. Nevertheless, she took some satisfaction that the Ravendor Clan was thriving, becoming whole… unlike Faith’s _other_ side of the family.


	18. Chapter 18

**Reading Your Palm...**

The first time she’d come across the unusual red-head was as remarkable as the woman herself. In fact, aside from her… attractiveness, the younger woman captured attention by sheer virtue of opportunity. During these dark times, there were few… innocents willing to brave Knockturn Alley, and even more so the dubious establishment of **Borgin and Burke** bookstore. It was well-known that Deatheaters and the Dark Lord’s sympathizers frequented the place. Not to mention, it boasted such an array of dark magic supplies, that not even that Muggle-goody-two-shoes-know-it-all, her son’s nemesis, Granger would be caught dead there. Although, Narcissa believed that this kind of thinking was short-sighted and myopic; how can one learn how to defend against the enemy who had no qualms about using dark magic, if one didn’t familiarize themselves with the discipline?

She mentally snorted in mild annoyance; the problem with noble ‘white-hats’ were that they’d rather accumulate death and destruction if it meant they could stick to their principles. In war, nothing is as black and white. So she could only speculate that this young woman was either lost, mentally unstable, or not an Order member. The older woman followed at a discreet distance, noticing two Snatchers take notice of the red-head. _She’ll be bloody furious if she ended up getting drawn into a duel because of some clueless whelp not minding her surroundings_ , Narcissa thought.

However, the young woman seemed unconcerned, walked casually down the alley, ignored the various riff-raff and lost souls loitering the area, peering at title or number of each building until she came to stand before _Borgin and Burke_. With no hesitation she entered the bookstore, not realizing the two wizards following her. With her wand at the ready, Narcissa stood in the shadows, waiting, watching for any trouble. When she heard a shuffle, glass breaking, startled shouts, and then the sound of spells being used, she started to move forward, cursing herself the entire time for allowing that woman to go in alone.

But just as she was about to start forward, the door to the bookshop was shoved open by an unseen force, and both Snatchers flew out, hitting the nearest brick so hard that their heads made a slight indentation, leaving crumbling mortar dust behind. They fell to the ground unconscious and bloodied. Wide-eyed, Narcissa looked back at the doorway only to see the young woman staring at the two men, two wands in her hand.

The look in the red-head’s eyes was hard and fierce. “Now, now boys. Play nice.” She said mockingly. Suddenly she looked up, her eyes locked with Narcissa’s, almost startling the older witch. Beautiful glowing, grass-green irises slightly darkened with anger, the edges bleeding back a darkness. Without taking her eyes from Narcissa, the red-head walked closer to the unconscious wizards. “They wouldn’t happen to be yours, would they?”

Still wide-eyed until the question finally registered, looking affronted she responded. “Absolutely not! I try to stick with my own species.” She watched as the young woman returned her attention to the unconscious wizards, squatting down, she patted down their pockets, before muttering a few unrecognizable phrases.

Similar to a the magical chord from an Unbreakable Vow, except this chord was a glowing blue strand that wrapped itself around the two men’s bodies. And she did this without a wand. She stood for a moment, brushing back a lock of blood-red hair. 

Muttering, “Faith is going to kill me.” She walked over towards Narcissa, holding out her hand in a traditional Muggle-greeting. “Hi, I’m Willow. Sorry about that.” She gestured towards the unconscious wizards before returning her attention the intriguing blonde. “They weren’t very polite.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” She uttered dazedly. The older witch tentatively stretched out her own hand only to find it clasped within very warm, slightly calloused hand. Immediately a sensation likened to very potent firewhisky, erupted in her veins, as she stared into the red-head’s eyes. The urge to tug the younger woman closer, to inhale that tantalizing scent that suddenly filled her nostrils, instantly compelling her to want more, the older witch found her body responding, jarring her out of her momentary stupor.

It was like she’d been swimming up a vat of warm honey, breaking through and finding fresh air. Almost gasping, only years of learning how to hide her reactions from others, allowed her a moment to gather herself, and appear as her almost normal, seemingly icy self. “Yes, well, my name is Narcissa.”

Immediately she realized she gave the red-head her first name. Something Narcissa never did. It was also at this time that she realized that she hadn’t let go of the younger woman’s hand. A hand whose thumb was gently caressing the top of Cissy’s hand, making that patch of skin feel as if it were lightly sizzling. Dropping it like it was a hot iron; the older witch stepped back, needing space, but yet, wanted to close the gap between them once again.

Fumbling for her wand, which infuriated her because Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, never fumbled(!), she clenched her hand around it, causing magical sparks emit from it, signifying Narcissa’s intense internal turmoil. When those beautiful green eyes began to darken once more, but darken with heat, not malice, Narcissa felt her insides tighten. _Merlin’s beard, this was no time for her… hormones to act up_ the older witch internally griped.

Desperately needing to escape, this place, these feelings, and most definitely this woman, Narcissa brushed her hands along her skirts, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin, looking for all the world like the Wizarding aristocrat she was. “Well, I can see you have things in hand. If you will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”

When Narcissa turned on her heel to leave, she was stopped by Willow’s voice shouting “Wait!”

Stilling, not wanting to turn around, as if knowing that her resolve to some unnamed emotion would break. That is until she felt a warm body brush up against her back causing her breath to catch, her nipples to harden, and her lower body to tighten. Warm breath caressed her ear as that same hand that had started these sensations gently cupped her elbow, slid down her forearm, until that hand once again encased Narcissa’s hand. “Call me. If you need anything.”

At that moment a tingly, icy sensation centered in the middle of her and quickly disappeared up along the warmth at her back. Silence followed as Narcissa turned around, trying to stir up some semblance of indignation to cover up her arousal, only to see that the younger red-head had disappeared. She didn’t even hear a _Disapparation_ sound. Immediately she looked down at her hand only to see a set of numbers magically etched on the inside of her palm. Clenching her hand, Narcissa tried to calm her racing heart; she knew her cheeks were blushing and hot, not to mention in manner of minutes, she’d become aroused and wet.

The fact that this Muggle(?) witch was able to disarm and bind two Snatcher with seeming ease, as well as place a mark within her palm, and even more astonishing used other magical means of _Disapparating_ , was astonishing. Powerful… Willow. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I decided to add a more... exposition-y chapter for Willow's run-in with Narcissa

**_Talk About Coincidences_ **

 

Willow teleported onto the grounds of the New Council near her favorite tree on the rolling countryside. She purposely chose this spot because she needed a few moments to process the scene she’d left behind or rather **_who_** she left behind. Dazedly walking up to the tree, she laid her trembling hand on its bark, as she allowed the scenes to roil through her head. Willow didn’t know what possessed her to be so… _bold_ , so… well, Faith-like. Perhaps her dark-haired friend was rubbing off on her on more ways than one, but she’d never had such a visceral reaction to anyone in her life.

The moment her eyes landed on the elegant, beautiful woman, instead of focusing on the immediate situation – such as securing the area, she wondered what the blonde would be like if she’d lost control. Narcissa was unlike any of her previous lovers; seemingly haughty, standoffish, or graceful. While Tara was graceful in her own way, particularly around strangers or people who weren’t Willow, most would have labeled her as painfully shy and awkward. Kennedy and Oz were comfortable in their own skin – for the most part, their otherworldliness gave them a sort of primalness not found in most humans.  The blonde witch with icy-blue eyes who appeared so… contained, that Willow immediately wanted to ruffle that composure.

Nevertheless, with her blood and magic running hot from being attacked by those two Dickeaters, who did such a bang-up job of being **not** secretive, Willow was almost startled at seeing the poised, yet surprised blonde witch.  She was also aware that along with her new status as the Emissary of two Goddesses, came with a few nifty upgrades – like senses. And Narcissa smelled… divine. Like honey to a bee, she was intrigued. Unlike her previous lovers, the pull was immediate instead of the slow burn attraction to Oz, Tara, or the sort of desperate neediness kind of attraction to Kennedy.

But she definitely indirectly blamed Faith for her actions. Her nipples were still hard from lightly pressing them against Narcissa’s back, and her stomach was still quivering from the simmering want echoing through her, and Willow was also aware of her light pant and heaving chest like she just had some kind of damsel in distress scene. Willow brought her hands up to press against her flushed, hot cheeks; hence the reason she didn’t teleport directly into the HQ. In fact, considering her physical and emotional turmoil, it’s a wonder how she was able to teleport to this location and not somewhere else by mistake! If she’d landed within the Council, chances are almost anyone idling nearby would’ve noticed her… restlessness.  If it had been one of the Scoobies or Kennedy they would’ve known exactly what that unsettledness indicated – her arousal.

So the need to figure out, process this unexpected state of affairs was necessary, never mind trying to explain it to anyone else. Hence the reason she was sitting underneath her favorite tree; the other upside was that it allowed her to soak up some energy from the earth. Although at the moment Willow was having a difficult time concentrating, much less meditating when all she wanted was to do was revel in the memory of her all too brief moment with Narcissa.

She planned on discretely finding out **who** the woman was – the name sounded familiar. If she was one of those hoity-toity, pureblood witches, from a pureblood family, chances are that the information wouldn’t be hard to find. Perhaps she’ll ask Androm— _oh!_ She’d heard Faith and Andromeda mention a witch named Narcissa. Willow’s heart sank. The Wizarding world was too small and she stopped believing in coincidences after the first time Angel became Angelus. Rubbing a hand along her brow to stave off an incoming headache, Willow knew she’d have to be discreet in finding out the background on Narcissa. She’d already given the woman her number, but chances are the blonde witch wouldn’t call. She knew she shouldn’t want her to call… but knowing something should happen doesn’t necessarily stop her from wanting it to.

 So why did Willow feel as if her heart was suddenly hurting at the thought of never seeing or hearing from the woman?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Faith's Animagus will be explained in more detail within the coming chapters  
> A/N 2: Please don't hesitate to drop a Comment -- my muse will thank you for it!

_**A Punch in the Universe...** _

__

Andromeda arrived some distance away on the rolling hills of Scotland. Brushing off her skirts, she began her short trek up to the large castle ahead to collect her guests. She cursed Ted for being unable to make it home in time to accompany her on this errand. However, she’d grown to care for her niece, even found her two strapping twin cousins quite adorable in their attempts to be exceedingly courteous whenever they were in Andromeda’s presence. She’d also spent many stimulating hours in Helena’s company, debating magical theory or the challenges of straddling both Wizarding and Muggle worlds. 

Seeing a group of young girls heading her way, Dromeda was reminded of her slight discomfort regarding this errand. The New Council was filled with young women who were trying to manage their Slayer aggressiveness while still being hormonal teenage girls. And when they weren’t trying to manage those challenges, then they were feeding the intense energy continuously zipping through their strong bodies, manifesting itself in their hyper behavior; from food to fighting.  Such as the last time Andromeda visited her niece here, it as she was being escorted by the very nice, yet very talkative young man, Andrew, that Dromeda had to duck just in time as an axe came hurtling out of  a kitchen to **thunk** into the wall nearby. A fight had broken out nearby between two young women. A tiny, blonde woman had stepped in and was astonishingly able to hold the combatants aloft with her hand gripped tightly into their shirts.

When said blonde woman noticed Andromeda, she smiled brightly at her. “Oh, sorry about that. You must be Faith’s aunt?”

Her guide, Andrew had been inching his way behind Andromeda in an effort to hide. “Andy, please take our guest to Giles’ office. I have to finish up here or I’d take her.”

“Sure thing, my Golden One,” he squeaked.

They hadn’t gotten out of ear-shot when the woman spoke again. “And if you don’t stop calling me that, I’ll sic Kennedy on you,” she threatened. 

Ushering Andromeda through the halls, once again the witch was witness to all manner of rowdiness, mayhem, and controlled-chaos. Dromeda had always had a reputation for being the logical and composed sister, even though Bellatrix was the oldest, Dromeda was the most responsible, the one that took care of everything, and restored order.

But she was equally ruthless in protecting those she cared about and loved, and while Bellatrix had the reputation for being an expert dueller, being one of the Wizarding world’s most prolific duelers, most forget that Dromeda had also been a more than capable dueller during her studies at Hogwarts, and more importantly she was a Black. Being a member of the **_Ancient and Most Noble House of_** **_Black_** meant that you were as equally competent in the Dark Arts as you were in Charms or Potions.

So while Andromeda ‘bravely’ walked through the gauntlet of young women with too much energy and strength, she had to stem her instincts to take charge, and employ some order. Finally, they came to a set of large mahogany doors. Andrew knocked, before a ‘come in’ echoed out. Opening, the door Andromeda watched as a graying older man, with glasses, wearing an actual tweed jacket, moved around a huge desk, littered with giant tomes, and stacks of papers. He held out his hand in greeting,

Giles greeted Faith’s other family member, “Welcome. I apologize for any mishaps you may have encountered along the way. Things have been a bit… tense since things in the Wizarding world have become a bit fractured. We’ve been on high-alert as a result.”

“Understandable. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Giles. Faith has spoken very highly of you.” Shaking his hand, she took a moment to take in the room, including the impressive library lining two walls.

So this was one of the famous Black sisters, he’d heard and read so much about; Rowena has been most vocal about what she thought about most of the Black family.  Obviously Andromeda nee Black Tonks no longer subscribed to the blood-purity beliefs of most of her family. Not to mention, that Faith spoke very highly of this particular Black relative. “Please, call me Giles. Faith should be here any moment. Have a seat. Can I offer you something to drink? Tea perhaps?”

After settling herself in a chair, she crossed her legs, and nodded. “Actually, Faith introduced me to something called bourbon. I wondered if you had any at that impressive bar you have over there?”  
  
Grinning, Giles said, “Leave it to Faith to use one of her favorite indulgences to build cultural bridges. Of course.”

He walked over to the bar, rolled his eyes at the bottles of Dr. Pepper and Mountain mixed in with his 25 year-old bottle of Glendronach, along with the slightly less-expensive Johnny Walker Blue, Maker’s Mark Bourbon, and Edison’s (apparently a taste for bourbon was a Ravendor family trait) bottle of rare Parker’s Heritage Collection, as well as vodka or gin, were part of the extensive Scoobies-Giles bar collection. Giles snorted, certain that both Faith or Xander had some weed stashed around here. After years on the front-lines, with little to no help, of literally having the world on their shoulders, the Scoobies were now firm believers in finding ways to decompress when the occasion called for it.

Luckily there were responsible enough to not overdue it… he hoped. They’d worried about Xander for a few months – losing Anya has been, and still was very hard for him. All they could do was be there for him, keep him busy, keep reconnecting him to the world that Anya gave her life for. After giving Andromeda her drink, Giles grabbed his own drink, and settled himself across from his guest.

Before he could start up a conversation, they were interrupted by the door opening by Buffy. Holding her hand out in a more formal greeting to Andromeda, the witch tried not to wince when Buffy inadvertently squeezed just a tad too hard. “Hey Giles. Eh- sorry about that thing earlier. Being a zookeeper really isn’t all fun n’ games.”

As Andromeda tried to decipher the Scooby-speak, they were interrupted yet again, this time by Xander, followed by Dawn, and finally Willow. All came laden with various objects: Twizzlers, books, or a weapon. They all took a moment to greet Andromeda, before plopping themselves down in the seating area with the witch and Giles. Surprisingly, Andromeda found the next few moments enlightening and rather enjoyable. They were all very sweet, intelligent, with a sense of dry humor that Andromeda could appreciate, and exceedingly considerate of their guest, deferential towards the father-figure of the close-knit group. It was during those moments that Andromeda became thankful that Faith had had such a loyal, caring, and forgiving group to care for her for all these years.

Removing his glasses to perpetually and needlessly polish and return to his face – which Dromeda realized was rather like a nervous tick, she watched as Giles became serious. “Before Faith gets here, we all wanted to know what are… your organization’s intentions?”

For a moment Andromeda was confused before realizing what he meant. “Giles, I do not have a lot of family, even less that chooses to have anything to do with me and vice versa. Having Faith in my life is gift and I cannot possibly explain how much more fulfilling myself, Nymphadora’s, and Sirius’ lives have been since Faith has been a part of it. We’d all been either persecuted or completely ostracized. And no matter how much we think it doesn’t bother us, no matter how evil my sister has become, or tacitly involved my other sister is… there is a hole in my soul… our souls that we thought would never be filled as a result. Faith… has filled some of that emptiness.” She paused to gather herself; not wanting to become overtly emotional.

Dawn shifted over to warmly clasp her hands in hers. “Well now it looks like your family has just gotten a lot bigger.” She was letting Andromeda know that she, Sirius, even Tonks were no longer alone. Granted Ted had his family, but they were all Muggles, which meant they were completely unaware of the world from which Ted, Nymphadora, and Andromeda existed in.

Trying to stem her eyes from becoming more watery with tears, Andromeda smiled in response. “Thank you.”

With a pop, Faith appeared, startling Giles, Xander, and Dawn, and immediately looked concerned when she saw her aunt looking sad. Hurrying over to her, she asked, “Aunt Andy, you ok?” She scowled when she looked at the rest of the group. “What did you do?”  
  
Gently patting Faith’s jaw to calm her, Andromeda consolingly said, “Now, Faith they did nothing. They were simply asking about the Order.”

Seeing Faith frown in confusion, Willow sought to explain. “She was just extolling your virtues.”

Standing after swallowing the rest of her drink, Andromeda took out her wand. “Don’t worry dear. Now, both you and Willow have an appointment to keep. We must go, we don’t have much time.”

Giles stood along with Faith and Willow. “Please take care of them. If anything should happen to them, we will not hesitate to act.”  
  
Andromeda grinned, as a Black she understood better than most a polite method of delivering a threat. “Understood.”

She directed her attention to the rest of the occupants, “It was a pleasure seeing you all again. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” Returning her attention to Faith and Willow, Andromeda reached into her bag, pulled out a battered looking, small, round, aluminum plate.

Standing apart from the Buffy, Dawn, Giles, a wide-eyed Andrew, and Xander, she motioned Faith and Willow closer. “Now, hold on tight.” Once all three women touched the Portkey, they disappeared from the room.

They reappeared with a **_pop_** on a street lined with townhouses. Sneaking a look at both Faith and Willow, Andromeda refocused on a spot between the two townhouses in front of them. “Do either of you… sense anything unusual about those buildings?”

Both women spoke at the same time, “Yeah, there’s this weird shimmer…” “… kinda glow…a huge shadow…”

Chuckling, Andromeda, waited, visualizing 12 Grimmauld Place, and then they all watched as the buildings shuddered and shimmered, until another building appeared. Smiling at their awed-looks, she started forward. “Come along. They’re waiting.”

The door was opened by a red-head, _naturally_ , thought Andromeda. “Good evening Mrs. Tonks. I see you’ve brought some delightful guests.” It was one of the twin Weasley pranksters.

“Hello George.” Ignoring his look of surprise at guessing the right twin, she motioned to two women inside, and first gestured towards Willow, “This is Willow Rosenberg  - not another Weasley.” Andromeda affectionately patted Faith’s shoulder, “and this is mine and Sirius’ niece, Faith.”

More footsteps made their way down the stairs. Unfortunately they’d momentarily forgotten the awful Walburga Black painting. Lodged on the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, she would start screaming obscenities and insults whenever she sensed Muggles or ‘blood-traitors.’ Many attempts have been made to destroy the portrait, but to date nothing worked.  Curtains were used to contain the awful bit of magic, hiding the portrait’s eyes, however at that moment they flew open, and unfortunately it was one of the first things Faith noticed about the dark and dismal home.

Momentarily ignoring the abuse raining down on her, Faith’s eyes widened at the memory of that rotund woman in black, who was arguing with her mom so long ago. A woman, she realized had had a hand in locking her magic in hopes it would eventually kill her, helping to destroy her mother, as well as taking her father away from her.  Just as suddenly as she came upon this realization, rage began to build. This woman ruined her life!

A glow began to emanate from Faith’s eyes, her magic sparked from her fingertips, as she suddenly pointed at the screaming woman. “You bitch! I’m gonna set your fucking ass on fire!” Faith threw a Slayer-sized punch at the picture, creating a giant hole in the middle. Walburga squeaked in fear and attempted to flee into the background.

When Faith pulled back her arm to deliver another punch, she found it held in position. Growling and straining, she furiously looked around only to notice the astonished looks from her uncle Sirius, another red-head – the other’s twin, and Andromeda. But it was Willow who was holding her arm up, palm facing Faith that captured her attention. “We’ll deal with her later. Permanently. But we have to stay focused.” Her eyes softened at seeing the look of anger and long-held grief. “I promise.”

Both Andromeda and Sirius shared a concerned look, a muscle bunched in Sirius’ cheek. They knew exactly what set Faith off; Walburga had a lot to answer for, as well as Bellatrix. Walking closer to his niece, he laid a calming hand on her arm, “It’s ok Faith. It’s ok…” he kept repeating the phrase until he could gently pull her away from the picture to enfold her in his arms.

Astonishingly Faith found her eyes welling with tears. Andromeda glared at the twins, indicating that she wanted them to leave them; this was a family issue. Blanching, the twins hurried up the stairs, while Andromeda gently ran her hand along Faith’s thick hair; so like Sirius and her Father’s. And just like her father and uncle, Faith pretended that the ‘hurt’ wasn’t deep, or that they didn’t feel deeply – likely it was a survival mechanism. Most of the Blacks had it, in fact, it was a necessary Black character trait.  Otherwise, you became Bellatrix or were murdered like Regulus.

Willow stood by, chanting another spell, and with a loud sound similar to a plastic bottle being suctioned, the picture caved in on itself, the sound of alarmed screaming becoming muffled and then silenced, as the picture was sucked through a wall. Faith, Sirius, and Andromeda were startled, and then Faith and Sirius started laughing. Faith walked over to her friend and engulfed her in a hug of her own, when she pulled back, she noticed the blushing red-head had pleased look on her face. Smirking, Faith raised an eyebrow, sending Willow a knowing look.

Willow shrugged. “Sorry. I decided that ‘later’ was now,” setting off laughter from the assembled family members.

“I always knew Mother’s mouth would be the end of her.” More raucous laughter followed, even as Andromeda rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Well done Willow. Now, I believe we have some likely impatient guests waiting for us upstairs.” With that they followed the older witch up the stairs, Faith and Willow disgustingly taking in the uber-dust and mounted elf-heads lining the wall on the way up the stairs.

“Geez, this has to be the worst decorating I’ve ever seen!” Faith steeled a look at both Andromeda and Sirius, shaking her head wonderingly, “This is one loving, fucked up family.” She uttered.

Andy sighed. “You have no idea. And I do wish you wouldn’t use that kind of language Faith,” she grumbled.

This time it was Willow who laughed. “Good luck with that.” Her tone indicated that that was wishful thinking. Although, Faith tended to be more circumspect with foul language around Helena.

They were met at the top of the stairs by Tonks; this time her hair was a light-purple. “Wotcher, Faith, Willow!” She threw her arms around her favorite cousin and then Willow. She gestured down the hall. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Tonks was excited because she’d grown close to both Faith and Red, so she’d been looking forward to introducing them to everyone. She’d been tutoring Faith on Transfiguration and Charms. Willow had sat in on their sessions, trying to incorporate some of the magical Wizarding theory within her Wiccan magic. Sometimes these sessions turned into lots of fun; American Muggle snacks that she’d grown fond of and she got to learn more about her Slayer cousin. Plus being around a witch as powerful, maybe as powerful as Dumbledore, was fascinating. Only Kingsley, Sirius, her mum, and Dumbledore knew just how powerful Willow was. Known as the Red Witch, they now knew she was responsible for the Sunnydale Spell, and Dumbledore had been in contact with the Devonshire Coven, Willow’s coven. They were also the only ones that knew about Faith’s lineage. Between Tonks, Sirius, her mum, and Helena, they’d been putting Faith through her paces: accessing her magic, pounding family, the Founder’s history into her. In terms of magical power, Faith was coming into her own. To say that both women would be formidable additions to the Order and Dumbledore’s Army, as well as their overall war efforts, was an understatement.

Not to mention, upon the anticipated results of this meeting would determine how much involvement the New Council, which meant hundreds of Slayers, plus their allies, many seasoned war-veterans would have on this war. They’d all been learning how primed the Slayer was for fighting and defending. Albus believed Faith’s Slayerness provided a significant edge for her. The Slayer in her allowed her to pick up spellcasting quickly; both offensive and defensive. Tonks learned that Faith was graceful and forceful with her magic, more so when dueling. She’d make an amazing Auror, which was why they’re being introduced and hopefully inducted into the Order of the Phoenix. Opening the door, various Order members were milling about, expectantly awaiting their guests. Molly was busy settling finger-foods around the room, sneaking glances at Faith and Willow. Albus Dumbledore steadily watched them enter, his tired blue eyes sparkling in anticipation. Alastor Moody stood near a window, Remus Lupin was sitting on a window-sill, tensing when his Wolf could sense the Slayer. Molly sat next to her husband, Arthur who had to be very careful leaving the Ministry this evening; things around the Ministry had become restless with negative energy, particularly towards Muggle-borns.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood next Albus, steadily taking in everything. Fleur, a young, beautiful blonde woman sat next to another standing red-headed male, who was eerily similar to all the other red-heads in the room except for Willow, Bill Weasley. In another chair sat a dignified older witch, Augusta Longbottom. A very short grumbling male, sat near Moody, named Mundungus Fletcher. The red-headed twins from earlier, slipped inside to stand next to the library of books; still amazed from Willow’s earlier spell-work.

To the dismay of Molly, the twins slipped out from Hogwarts to discuss their plans to leave school, and start a business. Naturally unbeknownst to their long-suffering mother, they’d planned a Weasly-Twins-Special-Going-Away event just for Umbridge and her goons. They were barely passing anyways and Umbridge was hastening their plans. Now they were delighted that they’d learned about their beautiful guests before all of their friends. Even if they were a tad scary.

All the gang from Hogwarts should be arriving soon for their Holiday break. The distinguished Minerva McGonagall was accompanying them. She’d wanted to be here for the introductions; she’d become quite fond of both young women, since she too began tutoring them. She’d sneak out twice a week to to the Shrieking Shack to meet with Faith, Willow, and either Andromeda, or Sirius, or Tonks – sometimes all three were in attendance. She’d also had the pleasure of meeting Faith’s grandmother, Helena Ravendor and they were becoming fast friends.

Harry had been looking forward to seeing his godfather, Sirius. He’d been slightly put-out that Sirius hadn’t been as attentive lately. But the older wizard promised to explain when Harry arrived today. Not to mention, needing a breather from the awful Umbridge was essential for Harry. Plus, he’d been increasingly suspicious of Malfoy – the Slytherin was up to something, and Harry was determined to find out what, because chances are it was nothing good.

Ron had been feeling rather disgruntled that Hermione hadn’t been around as much to ‘help’ him with his homework (meaning, doing his homework). She’d been rather distant, even when she was around, and he’d hoped to find out why now that they had some time away from that pink-puffed terror, Umbridge. He was also finally admitting to himself his attraction to his Gryffindor friend and thought the Holidays might be a good time to let her know. Of course, in Ron-Weasly-World it meant ambiguous, borderline-insulting, and pig-headedness, which was guaranteed to start one of their infamous rows. And finally, even though his mum was overbearing, he was looking forward to her cooking. He’d be seething, along with Harry and Hermione that they weren’t in attendance for this unique Order meeting.

Andromeda and Sirius preceded them into the room, nodding a greeting everyone before turning towards the two for introductions. As first Willow, and then Faith ambled into the room, it was hard not to shuffle in nervousness when all those inquisitive eyes landed on them.

“She’s a Black all right!” Kingsley muttered.

“Molly, Arthur, you wouldn’t happen to have any relatives hanging about?” Augusta asked.

Removing his hands from his pockets, Remus started forward towards their guests. “Wrong shade of red, I think.” He paused to lay a chaste kiss on Tonks’ cheek, before stopping to shake Faith and Willow’s hands. “Remus Lupin, welcome. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Likewise. Nice to meet you too!” Willow gushed.

“Lupin? Really?” Faith chuckled at the look of consternation on Remus’ face.

“You don’t have a problem with my… condition?”

“As long as you don’t start humpin’ my leg,” Faith ignored the smack from Willow, “we’re cool. Dude you’re only outta wack a few days out of the month. As long as it’s under control, I don’t see the big deal.” She gave a small smile to Tonks’ look of appreciation.

“Plus my cuz really loves ya, so that’s more than enough of a character vouch for me.” She affectionately thumped Tonks on the back, causing her to stumble forward a little from Faith’s negligent strength.

Willow and Faith had been looking forward to meeting Remus; Tonks’ love-interest and Sirius’ best-friend. But he’d been unavailable due to running a few missions for Dumbledore. He’d been scoping out werewolf coalitions, warning them about Voldemort, while trying to coordinate an alliance with them. Both Molly and Arthur also went to greet their visitors, sneaking looks at Willow to reassure themselves that they didn’t have any Weasley or Rosier off-spring that they’d been unaware of. Startling Willow she gathered the younger witch into her arms for a tight hug, before moving on to Faith to give her the same Molly-Weasley treatment.

“Welcome my dears. Tonks, Andromeda, and Sirius’ have spoken quite highly of you young ladies.” She steadied a look at Faith, accessing the latest Black family member. _Merlin, if she didn’t look like both Sirius and Regulus_ , marveled Molly.

“For Merlin’s sake Molly, let them breathe,” Sirius affectionately complained. Proudly he smiled to take the sting away, before ushering both women further into the room. “For those who haven’t met them, this lovely red-head, who seems immune to my charms, is Willow Rosenberg.” Rolling her eyes along with her aunt, Faith smirked at her uncle. His eyes filling with love and affection, he gestured towards Faith, “and this is my long-lost niece, Faith Black-Ravendor.”

Blushing Willow gave a slight wave to the assembled Order members, while Faith simply nodded and uttered, “Hi.”

Lightly grabbing Willow’s sleeve-jacket they made their way over to a set of chairs where Andromeda had settled herself in. Both women watched as the Santa-Claus dude with the colorful robes stood and slowly walked closer to them. “I cannot tell you how happy we are to have you meet with us.”

He then pulled out a pouch, plucked a yellow candy from it to savor it in his mouth, before tipping it towards Faith and Willow. “Lemon drop?” He offered.

Willow smiled, “I love lemon drops,” and plucked one for herself, ignoring the snort of amusement from Faith.

“Now that that’s settled. How is it that you came be the Red Witch?” Gasps echoed around the room in surprise.

Only Sirius, Andromeda, and Tonks knew about the Red Witch, everyone else had only speculated, hoping someone that powerful didn’t really exist. They’d all felt, heard about the reverberations from the Sunnydale Spell, most assumed it was more than one magic-user who conducted the spell, others assumed it was some kind of magical backlash. And then they heard it might have been a single person who performed the spell: someone called the Red Witch. But nothing had been confirmed, only a few tabloid-type stories in the Daily Prophet. Ironically, it was the Quibbler that had the closet information. But most witches and wizards dismissed the Quibbler outright for its peculiar stories.   
  
The fact that the famous/infamous Red Witch might be sitting in on this meeting was astonishing. Immediately, Willow began choking on her candy, while Faith frowned in protectiveness. Gently (for her) thumping her friend’s back, only causing Willow to gasp even more, Faith responded instead. “Why do ya need to know?”

This time it was Alastor who thumped closer and answered. “Because we won’t be the only ones wanting information on her. That much power attracts all kinds of attention and not all of it good.”

This time it was Andromeda who responded. She’d grown quite protective of Willow. They’d grown quite close during their hours of tutoring, sharing information, and simply getting to know one another. Plus a Black would know better than anyone what it was like to rise above Darkness, a fact she could appreciate in Willow’s struggle. “You’ll have to do better than that.”  
  
Willow laid a calming hand on Faith’s arm and then nodded at Faith’s aunt, assuring her it was all right. “I, we grew up on Sunnydale. Have any of you heard of it? Or know about the Hellmouth, or how it’s no longer open?”  
  
More gasps sounded around the room. “Are you suggesting that you’re responsible for closing it?”

This time it was Andromeda’s smooth tones who interjected. “Can you not deduce for yourselves: a red-headed witch, recently from Sunnydale, who knows about the Hellmouth?”

Astonished wide-eyes swung from Andromeda back to Willow. “You?! You almost destroyed the world! The Ministry has been looking for you ever since!”

Faith jumped in to defend her friend. “Hey that was a wicked bad time. For everyone. So back off!” she pointed for emphasis at the Order members.

“Besides, she is protected by the American Ministry for Magic with full diplomatic immunity, the United States’ government, as well as the British government. I was instructed to remind you of these facts in the event the British Ministry of Magic wanted to… interfere.” Andromeda had been looking forward to dropping that bomb. Sirius smugly folded his arms, while Tonks hid a laugh behind a cough.

“I believe you were telling us about events and your subsequent involvement surrounding the destruction of the Hellmouth, Ms. Rosenberg,” Albus reminded her. 

Blushing, Willow shifted her attention to the older red-haired witch. “Well, me, the last of the two Chosen, a Vampire, the rest of the Scoobies, dozens of Slayers, and a former Vengeance Demon. I just flipped the switch for it to be possible.”

Grinning, her dimples standing out in relief, Faith chimed in. “Well that and a big-ass Spell.”

Everyone began pelting them with questions, fascinated and astonished by what was just revealed. Alastor simply looked pleased. Meanwhile Albus snuck a glance down at Willow’s wrist. The unusual bracelet captured his attention. Slowly, not wanting to alarm, or certainly jar the protective instincts of Faith, Albus reached over to clasp Willow’s hand.

Raising his eyes to the red-head, he watched a flicker of awareness danced across the clear green-eyes. “Is this what I think it is?”

Tilting her head to the side, considering the powerful wizard in front of her, she also sensed something else. Switching to her Second Sight, Willow sensed something dark and evil emanating from him; like a bad smell that was trying to drown out the good scents. “There is something wrong with you.”

She narrowed her Sight, trying to ascertain where it was originating from; looking down at their clasped hands, she noticed that the darkness was localized around one of his hands. And it was slowly killing him.  She watched as Albus’ eyes turned solemn and serious. They ignored the now silent room, who was watching the scene unfold, while Faith watched over her. She knew Red was ‘talking’ to Albus and apparently it needed to be private.

 _No one knows!_ Her voice ricocheted in Albus’ head in surprise.

_Sirius did say you were very intelligent… and intuitive. *Sigh* No one must know._

Not wanting to intrude on his thoughts or memories more than she had to in order to glean information, she asked, _Would you like me to see if I can help?_

Albus smiled. _Perhaps later. Thank you._

Nodding, Willow broke the mental connection. Albus stood, turning his attention to the rest of the Order members. “I think it is fair to say, that we would welcome your assistance. Undoubtedly you would provide a tremendous advantage to our efforts.”

“Ah, before you give us the official ‘green-light’ there’s a coupla things you gotta know.” Albus smiled. He suspected that both Willow and Faith were more than they appeared. He sensed the very powerful shielding from both Willow and Faith. But underneath, he could sense powerful, ancient magic, and in the youngest Black’s case: feral. The last he couldn’t determine if it had more to do with her Slayer than something else. No doubt, whatever she was about to reveal would be fascinating and enlightening.

Pulling out another lemon drop – which he once again offered to an appreciative Willow, he returned his attention to the slightly uncomfortable Faith. Both Sirius and Andromeda gave her looks of support and compassion. “So… ah, turns out I got some serious ancestors on the Ravendor side.” Idly scratching her head, she continued. “Raven is short for Ravenclaw and ah…,” more gasps and stunned looks, “the dor-part is short for, ah-“ she held up her hand, skin facing the room to show the glittering heritage ring.

“Gryffindor?!” Remus exclaimed.

Even Albus was shocked. That certainly explained the ancient magic.

But then they watched as Faith swallowed, looking down, fingering her wand, before they watched her shrugged her shoulders, as if shaking off whatever nervousness. This time, even Tonks stumbled her way next to her favorite cousin, lending Faith her support. Willow simply waited, watching, ready to defend Faith if needed. “It… ah, looks like I’m also related to someone else. Someone we’re still trying to figure out…how.” This time Alastor thumped closer, as if his presence would will Faith to reveal sooner. Willow and Sirius glared him, but he ignored them; his twirling eye magical eye pinning the Slayer-Witch… or at least tried to. “Turns out, I’m also somehow related to Salazar Slyth-“  
  
Several reactions ensued. “No!” “How can this be?!” “…a spy…” “… take that back, or I’ll hex…” “…watch your mouth that’s my cou-…”  
  
“Silence!” Dumbledore thundered.

Willow grew annoyed, her magic gurgling underneath her skin, ready to go on the offensive if necessary, until a soft hand patted her shoulder, interrupting the mighty scowl she was leveling at the Order members. Seeing Andromeda with a gentle smile, she smiled sheepishly. “Do not worry. They simply need to work the shock out of their system. Plus Dumbledore has the last word and he believes in you both.”

Then she leaned closer. “Plus we Blacks are fiercely loyal and protective. We’ll hex anyone’s bits if they dared raise a hand or wand towards with either you or Faith.” Giving a wink and a smile, Andromeda leaned back, coolly unconcerned. Sirius on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He always was a hot-head; this situation proved no different.

Suddenly Augusta Longbottom, who’d been silent up until this point, started laughing, hard, which startled everyone to silence. When she was finally able to contain herself, she wiped her teary-eyes, stood, walked over to Faith while still chuckling, and looked intently into her eyes, before smiling. “If those Death Eaters and their ‘Master’ only knew! A mighty Champion for good is the true Slytherin heir and American who grew up around Muggles!” Again her chuckling reverted to outright laughing, and this time others seeing the remarkable irony, started laughing as well.

When the laughter died down, Faith finally responded. “If any of you question my dedication for good, let me remind you that I was the Slayer first, the last of the Chosen. There’s a giant hole where Sunnydale used to be and I been kickin’ ass and takin’ names for the last seven years. Every night. Well except that time in the pen. But that was dark time for me; I was a kid, with huge responsibilities, wicked abandonment issues, and no one in my corner. I have to live with those mistakes for the rest of my life; that includes takin’ a life. Now, I got some powerful juice runnin’ through my veins, and this time I got people I trust with my life; family and friends. One of em’ happens to be the Red Witch.”

Faith propped her hands on her waist, her feet apart, she allowed a little of the Slayer to come to the forefront. The saw the change come over her; a certain energy shifted, permeating the air, making them wary and alert. Her hair seemed to shimmer and thicken until it was this black, thick mane of hair, almost lioness. She also seemed bigger, broader, her very presence taking up the room. This was the Slayer… but it was also something else; her Animagus – the Black Lioness.

When she spoke next, her voice was deeper, huskier, more growly. “So yeah, I got the wizard-of-dark-arts’ blood in veins. But also got his gifts.  Not to mention Gryffindor and Ravenclaw’s. And the Slayer, the last of the Chosen; the Slayer line now runs through me. So take that in your tailpipe and smoke it.”

Silence met the end of her impromptu speech. “Well, I for one will think you’ll be a wonderful and fearsome addition to the Order,” Augusta pronounced.

Then Faith was subjected to another Molly Weasley hug.  “Welcome aboard, my dear. Although I’m not sure what a tail-light is, but we need all the capable help we can get. Thank you. Now are you hungry?”  
  
Before Faith could answer, Alastor thumped his way closer, his magical eye peering at both Faith and Willow. After a small amount of time, he seemingly found whatever answer he’d been looking for, abruptly turning around, and walked away. “Well we’ll need to bring em’ up to speed if they’re going to be of any real help.”  He directed his attention to both Albus and Kingsley, “I trust you’ll handle to particulars.” He paused, flickering another considering look in the new members’ direction. They were surrounded by Weasleys and Fleur, with a watchful Andromeda, and laughing Sirius nearby. “I trust someone will tell Potter?”  
  
Albus responded, “Only what he needs to know or what they choose to tell him. I suspect everything else will work itself out.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Let's Get Ready to...**

Faith and Willow arrived at the wizarding version of a hospital – St. Mungos. Mild bedlam ensued when they arrived on the floor that hosted Arthur Weasley. A sea of red hair filled the corridors, including the plump, effusive matriarch, who was sobbing into Kingsley’s robes. Many Order members were also in attendance, most likely to hold an emergency meeting to discuss the latest events. Willow had been in one of her many secretive sessions with Dumbledore, before he suddenly stiffened as if seeing some unseen event. It was supported by the _Patronous_ sent by Sirius announcing the assault against Arthur.

Arthur, a known Harry Potter-Dumbledore -Muggle supporter, working within an increasingly hostile Ministry, an institution that had been seeking to discredit both men, was attacked by Voldemort’s snake, Nagini. As the healers worked to remove the poison from his system and repair the substantial blood loss, they managed to extract his recent memories in order to discern his most recent events. Remus, Tonks, and Sirius were already in another room looking at the memories. It wasn’t long before they came marching out of the room with some urgency.

“We must get to the Ministry. Voldemort is sending his Deatheaters to steal the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries!” Sirius pronounced. Gasps echoed throughout the corridors as witches and wizards started to make haste towards the exit or a floo network. Willow and Faith shared a knowing look. The Slayer-Witch raised two fingers to her lips and whistled loudly, startling everyone into silence.

“Everyone slow down. We can’t go in there guns ablazin.’ Chances are they’ll be expectin’ us, so we gotta be prepared.” Faith cautioned. She looked around the room wondering how/if these people were prepared to go into war. However if she learned anything, she knew that in times of crisis brings out distinct qualities in people.

“Someone should update Dumbledore and tell him to meet us at the Ministry.” Molly, who planned on staying with Arthur, stated that she’d send another _Patronous_ to him.

“While you’re preparing a game-plan, I’m going to pop over to the Council to alert the troops.” Willow chimed in.

Following that entailed more plans on how to get into the Department of Mysteries without alerting the Deatheaters, giving them the advantage of the element of surprise. Faith cautioned Sirius to not go off half-cocked and to stay close to Tonks, one of the few remaining Black relatives. Suspecting it was a high-level Deatheater mission, chances are Bellatrix would be there, which meant she’d try to kill Tonks or Sirius, again. According to everyone, she saw them (along with Aunt Andy) as the ultimate Blood-traitors, a severe betrayal in Bellatrix’s mind, and since she was several bottles shy of a medicine cabinet, it stood to reason that she would target Tonks or Sirius. It was also decided that everyone should pair-up to cover each other’s back; no one fights alone if they can help it.

Faith also decided that either she or Willow would try to get the prophecy.  Faith also had one crucial business to cover before they entered the fray. Clearing her throat to gain everyone’s attention, she gathered herself for the difficult issue needing to be addressed. “All right everyone. This is a battle, most likely to-the-death. But just in case, I know many of you are hesitant, perhaps even opposed to killing. But you should know they will **not** hesitate. Those of you who’ve fought in the first war, you know from experience that you’ll only have a split sec to make a decision. Most times it ain’t even about decision-making, it’s about instincts. Listen to em!’ They’ve saved me more times than I can count. And in war: that’ll probably mean the difference between livin’ or dyin.’”

“But if you happen to take a life tonight, don’t forget, but don’t let it prevent you from doin’ what you gotta do from there on out to win this war. Because this war will probably officially begin tonight – this’ll be your openin’ shot. Make it count, we may lose a few battles along the way, but this one tonight is to let Voldy-dick know that we’re comin’ for him and anyone else who supports him.” When she finished, Sirius looked on with pride and love, Tonks nodded encouragingly, stress causing her hair and features to shift to different looks and colors.

Moody thumped his way to Faith, grunted and thumped his staff on the ground before growling out, “Let’s get to it then.”

 

* * *

 

A/N **There is characters in this scene that are not a part of original setting of the Department of Mysteries Battle, but suited my needs just fine**

As promised, Willow teleported into Giles’ office before heading over the Ministry, once again startling him, causing papers to fly up from his desk.  “Giles, I need a few Slayers! Voldy’s minions are breaking into the Ministry – although there’s some debate, at least in my mind about whether or not they’re already there. Anyways, they’re breaking into the Department of Mysteries, Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley earlier tonight, everyone’s assembled at St. Mungos –a wonderful wizard-like hospital, do you think we should use it for the Slayer? But then the Order is going to fight them, I have to find Dumbles, even though I worry about his health—“  
  
“Willow!” Dawn shouted from behind her as she just entered the room.

Giles was still looking at Willow in stupefaction, but chances are he was trying to decipher the major Willow-speak he’d just been subjected to. Dawn rolled her eyes. “Take a deep breath and slowly go over the highlights. I’m guessing we’re going Def-Con 2?”

They’d come up with a system of preparation for mild to extreme Council-emergencies. Def-Con 2 meant that they needed a team, perhaps two teams of Slayers, whereas Def-Con 1 meant all-hands-on-deck. Rolling her eyes in self-deprecation, Willow gave a brief run-down of events. It turned out that the Twins: Kisona and Aleki were visiting, playing videogames with Xander who’d recently returned from Madagascar. Naturally once they heard about the recent events they insisted on accompanying the team of Slayers and Willow. Unfortunately Buffy was in Cleveland handling another Slayer emergency otherwise she would have insisted on being teleported in.

Dawn would be the Council’s liaison to handle the aftermath with the Ministry. No doubt they’d need it. She’d also contact Helena and Cerise to alert them, only to be told that they’d be there to assist Dawn in dealing with the Ministry. Cerise had been furious! The only way Voldemort’s snake was in the Ministry was because someone **let** it in, which meant that the Ministry was as compromised as they suspected. That meant she’d have to also alert her own Minister and prepare them for the war exploding open in Britain. Like the Ministry, they also had a relationship with the Muggle President, along with the Council’s connections; it should be no problem in calming any murky waters with the coming fall-out. Kisona sent a _Patronous_ to Andromeda to also alert her to the latest events; Giles offered her and Ted safe-haven as they awaited news of the coming events.

Nevertheless, suited up, practically glistening with weapons, Willow, Rona, Vi, Kennedy, Kisona, Aleki, and Dawn arrived at the Ministry, to complete mayhem.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I've added some characters that were not part of the Battle in the Dept. of Mysteries. Please excuse me taking a little creative license.

_**The Big Payback...** _

__

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny faced off with a sneering Lucius Malfoy and a group of Deatheaters, wands pointing dangerously, hexes and more deadly curses practically spilling from their lips.  After taunting Harry and his group, Lucius demanded that Harry give him the orb containing the prophecy. When Harry resisted, Lucius, followed by a signal from Bellatrix to the rest of the Deatheaters, made a move to take it. That was when Harry gave his own signal for his group of friends to start destroying the shelves containing other orbs, sending glass everywhere, distracting the Deatheaters enough as they began fleeing in different directions. Spells, hexes and curses began flying everywhere, until Hermione found herself alone, being chased by MacNair. Allowing the magic of the Guardian to bubble forth and spill along her veins, caressing and enhancing her magic, her wandless hand unleashed her sword, as she began preparing to use the battle skills she’d been taught.

Suddenly she stopped, causing the Deatheater to nearly stumble into her in surprise. But that surprise quickly became fear when Hermione spun around, her wand and sword pointed at him. She quickly closed the distance between them, smoothly dodging a jet of deadly green light, feinted right, and then went low, swung her sword up and in an arc, loping off a hand gripping a wand. The scream that MacNair uttered filled the air. But only for a moment, because Hermione then pointed her wand, uttered _Silencio_ , instantly causing his screams to go silent. She then hit his temple with the pommel of her sword, knocking him out completely, and dropping him like a bag of potatoes.  

Running back towards other fighters, Hermione saw Neville get hit in the nose, blood immediately began spurting as a Deatheater, Augustus Rockwood took the young wizard’s wand, and snapped it. Nearby, Ron was hit by an _Impediment Jinx_ , as Harry dodged a stunning curse. However, Hermione threw one of her knives at Antonin Dolohov who was about to deliver a Killing Curse on Luna. As the knife traveled she pointed her wand at the hilt to deliver a slow-acting Witless Curse, which eventually caused someone to lose high-functioning brain power, causing the individual to revert to a permanent childlike state. She didn’t have time to appreciate the ancient spell Merlin taught her as she frantically looked around for Harry and Ron. She began running when she saw a mop of red hair lying on the ground. Ginny!

None other than Bellatrix LeStrange stood over her pointing her wand at the red-head’s body. The _Cruciastus Curse_ was truly a nasty piece of work and excruciatingly painful, as she suddenly learned when someone hit her in the back with it, a sensation like bruising fire erupted in her veins as she ran towards her friend. Rodolphos LeStrange had watched the young Gryffindor witch take out MacNair with almost no effort and with an unusual, yet effective method. Voldemort believed that Harry’s strength really ran through the mudblood. However before he started to deliver a Killing Curse at her, he heard the sounds of several wizards _Apparating_ into the room. This was immediately followed by a brutal hit by to his temple what from what felt like a brick, prevented from killing the brown-haired witch.

The cavalry had arrived, sending the Deatheaters into slight panic. If they did not get the prophecy, the Dark Lord’s displeasure would know no bounds. His distraction allowed Hermione to push through the _Cruciatus Curse_ and with the Guardian’s magical instinct lifted her wandless hand (she’d dropped her sword nearby) towards LeStrange and a strange purple light erupted from her fingers, the spell hitting Rodolphus in the chest. Hermione only had time to grab her sword and stand, as she watched the Deatheater explode in a shower of confetti. The Deatheater’s infamous wife, Bellatrix LeStrange could only look on; she hated her husband, yet she wasn’t sure if she hated the mudblood more for having the temerity to kill him before she did!

She suspected that was watching this mission turning against them. Bellatrix hated to disappoint her Lord. Tearing her gaze away from what the fleeing Muggle-born witch, out of the corner of her eye Bellatrix saw the currently purple-haired mane of her blood-traitor niece, Nymphadora. Over to her left she watched as Sirius had sent the useless Lucius careening across the room to land painfully and unconscious against a fallen shelf. She decided to deal with her more challenging cousin Sirius. Seeing Harry Potter fighting nearby, she decided that perhaps she could maim that Potter boy first.

Meanwhile Willow and Faith were going through the remaining Deatheaters like paper. Along with their more advanced, unique magical training, Faith called forth the Slayer which she’d also been training to dodge spells like bullets. At some point they separated, particularly once Dumbledore _Apparated_ onto the scene. They attempted to round up some Deatheaters for questioning later; others would not be taken alive. During this chaos, a pair of glowing intense hazel eyes crashed into Faith’s, freezing the moment for a millisecond until more Deatheaters broke the connection. Faith yelled to Hermione, “Back to back!”

Faith trusted few, yet for some explicable reason she knew with absolute certainty that this young witch would cover her back. She could feel the brunette’s back muscles twitch and roll against her own, and wished she was wearing less clothes so she could feel a more physical connection. Hermione had suddenly found herself fighting near this ferocious witch, who like the young Gryffindor, used both physical and magical means of fighting. Except from what Hermione could see, this woman was more fluid, experienced, and vicious. She also seemingly reveled in the fighting, which seemed odd to Hermione.

Usually she’d rather be curled up before a fire with a book or discussing theory with Merlin and Helga, but she found herself strangely… _ok_ with this situation. The feel of her fist connecting with flesh, the sound of a groan or whimper of pain from her adversary was… extremely satisfying. Even when she cut off MacNair’s hand, she felt a momentary sense of vicious joy in bringing the Deatheater to his knees. But that was quickly followed by intense remorse, before she was swept up into another fight with another Deatheater.

At the moment, Hermione felt weirdly energized, filled to bursting; her magic and some other intrinsic qualities wanted to extract retribution. This… quality felt almost feral, she wanted tear apart the current Deatheater she was battling, Yaxley. The more she fought, the more her body, her magic swelled, at one point when Yaxley hit her with a nasty hex, slicing a cut along the side of her torso, her magic swelled to bursting. Bursting to what Hermione didn’t know; if felt like it was licking her insides; it wasn’t painful but it was something… else. Stifling it for now, she allowed the more present Guardian magic to flowing, allow her to move inhumanly faster, more fluid and limber as her body bent backwards, allowing another curse to barely miss her, like a scene from that sci-fi movie. She spun and threw her ‘boomerang’ knife at the Deatheater, slicing his cheek, distracting him from her wand movement which sent a Stunning curse, sending him crashing into a nearby wall, head-first. There was a… intense sensation of pure satisfaction at seeing the blood smearing along wall behind Yaxley’s head; so much so she wanted more. Hermione followed like a dog on the trail of a scent, hunting him, wanting to hurt him even more.

However, she was distracted by movement from the left. Fenrir had pressed Luna onto the ground, grinding himself against her, while growling and snapping his jaws at her. But she was beat out by the reaction from her new fighting companion. When Faith saw the Werewolf threatening the young witch, she roared, her Animagus suddenly making itself known, alerted to the challenge and danger of a Werewolf. Her clothes bled away as her body grew large and muscular. Inky, thick fur grew in place, her facial features grew broader, yet her nose and mouth grew forward and round into a short, wide snout, whiskers sprouting beneath the nose, as her teeth became large and deadly. When she finished transforming in her place stood a completely black lion, towering over Fenrir. Her hands had shifted into huge paws, fingers became dangerous claws.

At that point everyone had stopped fighting, staring in awe at the figure. Instead of her one brown eye and a lavender-colored eye, her eyes were red. Glaring red eyes, which were now staring down at Fenrir. When Faith roared again as she charged at Fenrir, Deatheaters began _Disapparating_ in clouds of black smoke. However, Sirius was now battling Bellatrix. The feared Deatheater knew that she couldn’t allow herself to become distracted by the serious threat to her Master’s power. _Who were these people?!_ A witch without a wand who had seemingly little problem with freezing or hurting her fellow Deatheaters and a legendary… Black Lion!When Bellatrix hit her cousin with another hex he was unprepared for, she saw her chance, particularly once she noticed that Sirius, the fool, was standing near the Veil. Quickly calculating the distance, while dismissing the smidgeon of… reluctance to see Sirius dead, she sent another curse at him. She watched as the curse caused him to stumble back and fall into the Veil, killing him. 

Hearing shouts from nearby she started to make a quick exit. Both Harry and Faith, who quickly transformed back into her human form, shouting, “No!” and ran towards the Veil. Remus quickly wrapped up the young wizard, while Tonks tackled her cousin. When she realized that her powerful cousin could easily toss her, she lifted her watery eyes towards other Order members to help hold a struggling Faith down.

Willow was torn between dealing with Faith and going after Bellatrix. When Kisona and Aleki stopped to assist Tonks, Willow turned towards going after Bellatrix, running out into the curiously empty atrium. She lifted her hand to utter a spell, only to beaten by a jet of light from Harry running past her. The dark witch went sprawling forward, followed by Harry bearing down on her, his wand pointed at her. When she turned on her back to stare up at him, Willow’s attention was drawn from the scene as her magical senses were being pinged by something else entering the scene.

And that was when a bald, noseless wizard appeared on the scene. Slitted eyes took in the scene taking place between Bellatrix and Harry. The Deatheater was currently mocking the young wizard.

“Come out, come out, little Harry! What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!” She mockingly taunted.

His body shaking with rage and grief, the need for vengeance setting his blood on fire, Harry responded. “I am!”

“Aaaaah…did you love him, little baby Potter?

Willow readied herself, preparing to step in but she wanted to assess Voldemort in a natural battle setting. When Harry attempted to deliver a _Cruciatus Curse_ at the Deatheater he was unable to summon more than a magical whimper. Instead Voldemort threw a Killing Curse at Harry which Willow dispersed. That was when Voldemort noticed Willow, but before he could assess the threat, Dumbledore arrived and began dueling Voldemort. Willow flicked her hand and bound Bellatrix as she tried to D _isapparate_ away. She stood protectively near Potter watching the amazing duel taking place between Dumbledore and Voldemort. But she was worried.

Only she and Snape knew that Dumbledore was dying and she knew that a duel like this would only weaken him further. Plus she wanted to really test Voldemort because she was almost certain he wasn’t prepared for her. Or Faith for that matter. When a huge pyrotechnic-fire dragon attempted to attack Dumbles and Harry, Willow stepped in, sending Dumbledore a mental message to take care of the young wizard.

Erecting a huge tsunami wave shaped like a hydra-monster to meet the fire dragon, she took satisfaction in the look of uncertainty in Voldy’s eyes at the power of her spell. Before he could launch another spell, Willow mentally muttered another spell, causing a huge invisible fist to slam into Voldemort’s body, sending him careening into the wall.

“How noble you are to pick on young kids and old men.” She mocked. “But then I learned that asshats loved to spread the misery around, the more vulnerable the better. Well now you’ll have to deal with me.” Willow lifted her hand to her mouth, her palm outstretched; her fingers swirled into motion as if she were invisibly spinning something. She blew along those swirling fingers, and watched as the plume of air became a gust of wind that grew into a mini-tornado, growing bigger, picking up debris along the way as it catapulted towards Voldemort. By the time it was about to reach him as he tried to _Disapparte_ into a puff of black smoke, the dark wizard ended being violently spun around.

Faith came hurtling into the room, violent energy and grief engulfing her. She slid next to her red-headed friend, her wand and sword at the ready, watching what Willow was doing. Somehow Voldemort had gotten loose and disappeared. But his nebulous form reappeared again, possessing Harry.

Suddenly Harry knelt, his eyes no longer his; but Voldemort’s opaque-colored ones. _You think you may have beaten me, but I will kill everyone you hold dear. Just as I killed your parents. Just as Sirius has been killed tonight. How did you enjoy growing up in the warm bosom of your Muggle family. The same people who treated you like filth, like a slave. Who do you think chose those people? Why would they leave you with the very same people who even despised your own mother?!_

The words were halted as Harry tried to fight him to push him, using the _Occlumency_ skills Snape taught him.  Meanwhile Dumbledore, standing protectively over the writhing young wizard, was trying to reach Harry to help him push Voldemort out. Finally, after reaching deep beyond the rage, the need for vengeance, the grief, Harry found… love. And with a scream of rage Voldemort was expelled. Quickly grabbing up Bellatrix, he _Disapparated_ away. At this point more people spilled into the room; namely Minister Fudge, Percey Weasley, a few Aurors, Helena, Dawn, Cerise.

But it was Minister Cornelius Fudge who had the most severe reaction, immediately realizing how much he was about to lose. “Merlin’s beard – here – here! … in the Ministry of Magic! – great heavens above – it doesn’t seem possible – my word – how can this be?!”

That was when he drew the wrath of Faith. Quickly closing the distance between them, her rage fueling her, Faith reached over towards him, her hands clenching into the lapels of his robes to lift the Minister clear off the ground. “You fucking idiot! This is your fault! Sirius is dead! He’s dead!” Thickly swallowing the tears that wanted to pour down her cheeks, Faith fingers tightened, almost choking off his air.

Unbeknownst to her, but not to anyone else, her magic filtered out being powered by intense emotions. Now that the blood of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin coursing through her veins had been fully unlocked, that magic was making itself known. The building began to shake; dust and mortar began raining down around everyone.

When Aurors attempted to intervene, Willow lifted her hand and held them in place. “Because you couldn’t be bothered to protect… the citizens of the wizarding world, Deatheaters just popped into the highly secretive Department to Mysteries, this asshole practically walked into the goddamn Ministry, even fucking dueled it out before your stupid ass showed up! Now…” she swallowed down a sob before continuing, “…and now… he’s dead.” She paused again, briefly clenching her eyes shut before opening them, pinning the trembling Minister with her bi-colored eyes. “By my ancestors: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and fucking Slytherin, I. Will. End. You.” Her eyes flickered behind the Minister, eerily locking with familiar hazel ones, and found herself calming. Returning her attention to Fudge, with a look of sheer disgust she threw him away from her, walking away as he painfully landed on his back.

Hermione had been helping Ginny while Ron carried her on the other side only to pause as the scene played out between Faith and Minister Fudge. Her attention now completely on the dark-haired woman, Hermione found her heart clench in her chest at the look of devastation and grief.

Dawn and Cerise having just arrived, stepped towards Minister Fudge, with Dawn leading the way. “Your cowardice has endangered the Wizarding world, as well as the Muggle one.  You have allowed the Wizarding government to become lax and ill-prepared, and more importantly compromised. While this kind of… management may be excused by the Wizarding world, you’ve now brought the matter to the Council’s attention, and that makes it our problem too.” This time she leaned closer to the flustering and almost broken wizard. “Clean your house or we’ll do it for you!” Dawn snarled.

Tonks was enveloped in Remus’ arms, crying, the Twins were helping Neville, both of them slightly bloodied, but solemn, Harry was being consoled by Dumbledore. Faith could only look on, dreading telling Andromeda, knowing her aunt saw Sirius as the brother she never had. Warm arms wrapped around her as Faith stood still, her hands clenching as she tried to control her roiling emotions. Her eyes burned and became blurry until warm, salty liquid began coursing down her tanned cheeks. Willow’s head rested on Faith’s shoulder, trying to provide additional comfort, her own eyes stinging with tears. After all, she’d spent many hours getting to know Sirius as well.

“Faith, let’s get out of here. I’m sure Andy is waiting for us…” Knowing how hard it’ll be to tell Andromeda, Willow tried to comfort her friend. “I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be to tell her, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. And so will Tonks.”

It was at that moment that her cousin, whose hair was now a rather ‘normal’ lifeless-brown, an approximation her real hair-color, approached her. The color was a good illustration of her internal grief. Stepping closer to Faith, she wrapped her arms around both Faith and Willow. Meanwhile, Hermione had broken away from Ginny, leaving her to Ron and Percy, to approach Harry. She stooped down to wrap her arms around her sobbing friend. All the while her eyes kept returning to the dark-haired woman, whom she learned was named Faith Black-Ravendor. She just managed to stifle the need to go to the woman and wrap her up in her arms tightly, but only barely.

Faith’s whiskey-soaked voice even hoarser with her throat thick with tears, finally responded, her eyes finding first the Potter-kid, and then almost without volition a pair of hazel-eyed pair. “Yeah… but I gotta see to that Harry-kid over there. Sirius would’ve wanted me to look after him.”

Both Willow and Tonks looked over to the messy, brown-haired wizard, who sat wrapped up in Hermione’s arms. Finally tearing her gaze away from the witch’s gaze, her eyes were caught by Dumbledore’s, who simply nodded in compassion at the Slayer-Witch he quickly grown fond of. He watched as she slowly walked over towards them, towering over the small group.

Meanwhile Hermione couldn’t tear her gaze away. The warring emotions and instincts running rampant inside her were more than unsettling. Then there was a sensation akin to her blood running thick and hot, like molten lava, particularly when those distinctive bi-colored eyes landed on her once again. The desire to run away was as strong as wanting to lose herself in that gaze once again. She’d never experienced anything like her reaction to this… woman. And she felt guilty that she wasn’t focusing on Harry. So when the woman approached, standing over them, it felt as if Hermione was standing near the sun. The sweat that had been pooling from the recent battle suddenly erupted once again as heat washed over her skin from those terribly-compelling eyes.

But Hermione was honest enough to acknowledge that it wasn’t just those eyes; it was her overall presence. Due to Hermione’s enhanced senses, underneath the blood and sweat, the younger witch could smell the tantalizing scents of nutmeg and honey, along with a smell of… animalness. Hermione suspected that had something to do with that awe-inspiring Animagus form she saw the dark-haired woman display earlier. In fact, she was… magnificent and for as long as Hermione lived, she’ll never forget seeing that amazing magical beast for the first time. She also had a hard time quelling the way her magic was reacting to the roiling power of the Animagus’ magic.

And then there was the red-headed witch, the witch who doled out complex, powerful spells without a wand! At first Hermione had thought she was a distant Weasley who’d come to visit. But the red was all wrong, plus she could see Ron and Percy hovering over Ginny, who’d been severely injured during the battle. They were waiting to transport her to St. Mungos.

Dumbledore, along with Hermione’s help, urged Harry to his feet, and then reached over to lay a hand on Faith’s forearm. “I’m so terribly sorry Faith. This is Hermione,” he motioned towards the captivating witch that had garnered Faith’s attention, “and this of course, is Harry. Harry, I need you to go with these young women. They will bring you back to Hogwarts and take care of things from there. I have to attend to things here.”

After fixing his glasses, which had been scattered along the ground, Harry wiped his face, tears still dribbling out of his reddened eyes, before directing his attention to the new group. Tension filled his small frame as he stared at the women with Tonks with a guarded expression. “Why?! Why do I have to go with them? Why can’t I go to Sirius’ house or with you?!” He directed this last question at Dumbledore, ignoring the two women completely.

Faith jumped in before anyone else spoke. “Listen kid… Sirius is…was my Uncle so I got an idea how you’re feelin.’ I wanna explain more… but you… you ain’t safe here. We gotta get you outta here. Plus, if you’re as famous as everyone says you are, then you’re about to get ‘fishbowled’ and then I’d have ta lose my temper. Again.” As Harry looked at Faith with an indecipherable expression, Faith’s eyes once again found Harry’s female friend. “Hermione, you can come too.”

As much as Faith wanted to placate and console the kid, she could feel the turmoil from all her warring emotions crashing into her, almost overwhelming her, even as she once again found herself locking eyes with the lush, brown-haired witch. She knew that if she’d look down at her wand-hand, magical sparks might be shooting off of it. Grief, guilt, anger, along with these other bundle of emotions – intense attraction; the need to touch, to taste… to scent, but Faith couldn’t be sure that was all her or her Beast.

Nevertheless the need to escape was becoming paramount. Finally tearing her gaze away from Hermione, a muscle bunching in her cheek to illustrate her intense despair, she directed her attention to Willow. Those beautiful green eyes glowed with sadness and empathy. “Look can you…-“

Laying her hand on Faith’s shoulder, Willow nodded. “I’ll take care of him. Come when you can.” Brushing a lock of dark hair from the Slayer-Witch’s face, she asked, “Do you need anything?”  
  
Briefly closing her eyes, she heaved a deep sigh before answering. “Nah, just look after them for me. I’ll…” she swallowed, tears once again stinging her eyes. “I’ll be by later. Make sure Mac looks out for me.”

Briefly smiling, Willow nodded. “Ok.” she redirected her attention to Harry and Hermione. “Is that ok with you?”

But before she could answer they were interrupted by Dawn, Cerise, and Madam Bones. “Please excuse us. But we wondered if we could have a moment of your time before you leave?” Amelia Bones directed this question at Willow and Faith, who shared a puzzled look, 

After promising them that Willow and Dawn would bring her up to speed, Faith took off. However, Willow and Dawn both learned about Minister Fudge’s decision to place Dolores Umbridge, a known pureblood supporter in charge of Hogwarts. In addition, she subjected the students to torture and harassment, particularly those who were Muggle-born, Gryffindors, and friends with Harry. Both Willow and Dawn shared a look of relief that Faith wasn’t here or she would surely kill Minister Fudge.

As it stood, they were having a hard time calming down Cerise, who promised that if any American Hogwarts students had been injured this would become more than a small diplomatic incident. Dumbledore asked that his position be more administrative and that McGonagall take over most of his Headmaster duties. Sharing a knowing look with the elder wizard, Willow inquired how they could help. Dawn couldn’t prevent the look of glee as Madam Bones handed over a scroll granting them the power to act as agents of the Ministry to help ‘clean up’ Hogwarts.

But Willow’s brain was working overtime. “Wait, perhaps one of us should remain in an official capacity, while the other goes undercover to weed out the more insidious Voldy’s” she ignored the wince from Bones at Willow butchering Voldemort’s name to Willow’s mental eye-roll and continued “influences. Besides we also need to protect Harry and it’d be better to do that posing as a student.”

Dumbledore needed to move up his schedule. His tired blue eyes landed on Harry; he wished he could spare him the huge weight on his shoulders. A weight that was only about to grow heavier; he looked over at Ms. Granger. Luckily, he will not have to shoulder it alone or the Wizarding world would truly be lost. He was mindful and experienced enough to know that while Harry may have to ‘swing the ax’ it would be up the Hermione to ‘help find the target.’ He also knew that he grew weaker, much weaker than he anticipated and he suspected it had to do with expending his magical energy on the duel with Voldemort.

This time his eyes shifted to the red-headed witch; Willow had the potential to take up his mantle, if she wanted it. How he reveled in the look of consternation on Tom’s face as he weakened in the face of Willow’s magical might. The atrium continued to flood with more Ministry officials and he caught of glimpse of blonde ringlets and glasses: Rita Skeeter. Now he knew he had to leave.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Bring the Pain...** _

 

Several cracks echoed out nearby indicating the return of Deatheaters, perhaps her sister as well. Narcissa could only hope that it didn’t include Voldemort. But when the front door crashed open against the wall, followed by the heavy distinct, heavy footsteps of the Dark Lord, Narcissa knew that her wishes were yet again, in vain. Allowing the mask of icy-indifference and composure, she made her way downstairs to greet the group returning from the mission at the Ministry.

Privately Narcissa had hoped they’d fail because victory meant that the Wizarding world may surely be lost and her chance to get her and Draco to safety would become slimmer. Upon entering the room, she became an unfortunate witness to a Voldemort temper-tantrum. But unlike the fairly harmless version she seen Draco unleash, the Dark Lord’s version meant strained and torn ligaments, the snap of broken bones, blood spurting and gushing, even the occasional instant silence from death as she saw Rockwood experience. Her sister laid quivering in a heap at the feet of the Dark Lord, pleading for forgiveness, bloodied and bruised as Voldemort swept his wand around the room, unleashing his fury at his victims.

Narcissa swallowed down the instant sensation of nausea coupled with rage and despair, her elegant hands clenching around her wand. How this… degradation continued to take place in what was once her home, was simply appalling. Immediately she looked around for her husband and could see no sign of his trademark white-blonde hair, which could mean two things: 1) he was killed or 2) he’d been captured. Both options meant more danger for her son and the simmering hatred she felt for Lucius almost swallowed her whole. That odious and vile snake had slithered its way around her master’s feet, as if trying to give ‘comfort’ to that monster.

Finally the Voldemort’s rage expended itself; leaving behind a group of quivering, damaged wizards. Sneaking a considering look at the dark wizard, Narcissa noticed that apparently he too hadn’t returned from the mission unscathed. The pallor of his skin seemed even paler than usual – almost a fluorescent white. A bruised cheek, accompanied by a trickle of blood from his left nostril and dribbling from the corner of his almost lipless lips, meant he’d run into something he hadn’t been prepared for. In fact, Voldemort almost listed forward as if to ward off more pain. The intense sensation of satisfaction that filled Narcissa never made itself known on her face.

“My Lord, how may I assist you?” It was expected of her. Otherwise he’d smarmily bring up her inattention later, at her expense.

Trying to control his panting from what he suspected were broken ribs, his slitted red eyes took in the coolly-composed Narcissa, wishing once again that it’d been her instead of her useless husband to take his Mark. “Yessss, when is your son arriving?”

Trying to control the stab of intense fear and calm her racing heart, she once again cursed her husband. “I believe he should be arriving tomorrow, my lord.”  
  
Practically shuffling over to his throne-like seat, he gracelessly sat, Nagini slithered up his legs to place her great head on his lap for him to rub. “Your husband has proven most inept. Let us see what your son can do. Bring him to me once he arrives. In the meantime, please take your sister from my sight.”

Nodding, Narcissa started towards Bellatrix, loathing the dark wizard even more, if possible. “Yes, my lord. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Waving his hand dismissively, Voldemort sat there, watching her intently, and once again Narcissa could only thank Merlin that she was a Skilled Legilimens and Occlumens, the later meant being able to keep Voldemort out of her head. Of course, it helped that she rarely questioned him or directly involved herself in his plans. In the meantime, she’d helped her sister to her rooms, heal her once again, and hopefully find out how recent events transpired.

Meanwhile Voldemort sat stewing, brooding over his recent… delays. Like every antagonist before him, he mentally complained, _it is so hard to find good help_. However, that was not the real concern; it was the red-headed, wandless witch, who managed to out-duel him in a matter of moments. That was simply unacceptable! The first order of business was to assess the damage; chances are he was still betting on the general incompetence of the Ministry, so while he might have some losses there, he suspected it won’t be anything significant.

Next and probably most importantly would be to find out **whom** this… Witch is.  No one with that amount of power would go unnoticed. “LeStrange!” Bellatrix’s husband, Rodolphus did not make it back from the mission. So that left only one brother: Rastaban. “Send for Pius. I have a little errand for him.”

 

* * *

 

Narcissa shuffled-carried her sister to her rooms, the fact that Bellatrix was sobbing, while trying to hold onto her torso as if to hold in more essential organs from spilling concerned the blonde witch. Finally they made to the room, using her wand she opened the door, closed and locked it. Pointing her wand at the bed, she gave it a whirl and the blankets folded themselves back so that she could tuck Bella in later.

After settling the dark witch onto the bed just enough to allow Narcissa to remove her torn clothing, the younger witch pointed her wand again, uttering _Accio medical-kit and potions-box_ , and then watched as both items flew gently towards the bed to land next them. Looking at her sister, she shook her head, cursing a supposedly superior Wizarding world that used Dementors on prisoners. How can one hope to be rehabilitated if everything they hold dear, every hope, smidgeon of happiness is sucked out of them.

Considering the emotional and physical abuse heaped onto Bella from their father, coupled with her stay in Azkaban, and the sneering abuse from Rodolphus, it was no wonder Narcissa desperately tried recover some scrap of her sister’s humanity. So she did what she could; healed her wounds, fed her hot, warm meals, handled her rages and moments of madness, and when permitted showed her sisterly love and compassion. A tall order considering that Bella was Voldemort’s most feared Deatheater, his Second-in-command. But Narcissa had to try, because in spite of everything, she loved all her sisters.

Gently lifting her sister’s head to place her lips closer to the potion-bottle, she muttered a healing spell to close up a wounded, bloody slash along her cheek. “I need you to drink this Bella. I promise you’ll start to feel a little better once you do.”

Whimpering in pain, Bellatrix drank the potion, and instantly the potion began mending ligaments, re-knitting bone, until with a gasp Bella only felt the pain like a residual echo. Exhausted, she allowed the blonde witch to undress her and clean her, before re-dressing her in a sleeping gown, and then tucking her into bed.

Tenderly brushing aside strands of tangling curls, Narcissa began picking the supplies. “Bella, I’m going to have one of the house elves bring up something for you to eat. Try to eat, I promise it’ll help heal you.”

Standing up, Narcissa called forth Iris, who was assigned as Bella’s personal house-elf. After giving instructions for soup, homemade bread, and tea, Bellatrix spoke. “Rodolphus was killed.”

Again, Narcissa only just managed to contain her supreme satisfaction before coolly answering. “I am sorry to hear that.” She paused, wondering if she should even bothering asking this question. “Are you… all right? Would you like me to take care of any arrangements?”

Bella snorted. “Don’t bother. He wouldn’t appreciate it. His brother will most likely take care of things, until Gringotts contacts us about his will.” She paused again, allowing her words to sink in. “I am Bellatrix Black once again and I don’t plan on ever changing that. I’ve had enough men making my life miserable.”

When Iris returned with her meal, which Narcissa instructed the elf to set in the nearby table, once again the silence was interrupted by Bellatrix. “Potter’s mudblood was there. She loped off MacNair’s wand-hand!” She chuckled. But then she grew serious. “A red-haired witch was there. A wandless witch… she almost killed the Dark Lord.” She quietly uttered. “She was so powerful Cissy.’

The knot of cold fear and tension settling in the bottom of her stomach was almost unbearable for a few moments before the blonde witch got it under control. “Indeed? Do you know who she is?”

However Bella ignored that question, continuing to hit upon the highlights of recent events. “And there was another… an Animagus. Powerful… I have only heard the legends, but didn’t believe… her Animagus is a Black Lion, Cissy.” She finished earnestly.

Apparently this was an evening of emotional trials meant to unravel her, because the Black Lion was a powerful magical beast of legend. There were stories that one of the Founder’s Animagus was the Black Lion. A magical beast, only speculated by the odd Lovegood or two and their ridiculous rag, The Quibbler. It was unheard of an Animagus taking the form of a magical beast, especially one only speculated about, yet never seen. “But… how can that be?! Who was the Animagus?”

Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Bella took a sip of her soup before answering. “I do not know. Like the red-haired witch, her magic was… different, but also very powerful.” What Bella didn’t say was that she was worried; worried for her Dark Lord and these powerful interlopers – because they were unlike any wizard she’d ever met. She was worried for Cissy and even her spoiled nephew Draco. Listless Lucius could go pound sand for all she cared. She’d already come to terms with the fact that she might not survive this war and she was fine with that; perhaps it would finally give her some measure of peace that she’d never been able to find this life. Bellatrix mentally snorted, but then she’d doubt she’d be so lucky.

However as quickly as Bella marveled over the Animagus and the red-haired witch, her thoughts took the predictable dark turn. “Cissy… I killed Sirius.”

Covering her mouth with a gasp, her eyes stinging with tears she wouldn’t let fall, Narcissa tried to regain her composure. Swallowing thickly, she watched as her sister continued to ignore her, slowly sipping her tea, her features darkening. “H-how?” Narcissa wanted to scream, but wanted to avoid getting into an actual fight with Bella. True, Sirius irritated her, but it didn’t mean she did not secretly care for him.

 _Oh, Bella… how could you?_ Of course this meant that Andy and her family were equally in danger from Bellatrix. How Bella could consider killing her own sister and niece was beyond Narcissa and truly spoke to how damaged the elder sister was. And the worst thing about it all was that Narcissa couldn’t even properly grieve for him, not without putting herself or Draco in more danger. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Thanks to everyone for their patience. The shit-storm that was Hurricane Sandy, made life very... challenging. I was finally able to come up for air, with some confidence that another emergency wouldn't present itself.
> 
> A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to drop a comment, you have no idea how much it was appreciated. Please don't hesitate to do so again.
> 
> Now onto the story.

**On A Dark Hillside**

 

Faith stood like a silent sentinel, completely still; allowing the light rain to wash over her, rinse away her grief. It was at moments like this that she was reminded how very tired she was. Sirius had been like a brother she never had and while she hated clichés, she suddenly could appreciate how useful they were when words failed you. She’d _Apparated_ to a grassy knoll she’d stumbled upon a few weeks ago when she accidentally _Apparated_ here after a particularly grueling magic lesson. Usually following a hard fight, she’d be dealing with the Double-Hs, more so now since she got the magical upgrade. But this time, she was reeling with the all-encompassing grief that frankly, took her by surprise.

Yes, she and Sirius had become quite close, discovering common interests, even more similar personality traits. The bond was strengthened by their mutual stint in prison. Granted he was wrongly imprisoned, while Faith definitely deserved her punishment, but it was all about sharing something that few people did. Nevertheless there was the shared discussions about being locked up, having your rights, your will completely taken away, and more importantly, about finding your way back through redemption that no one aside from Willow could understand.

However the biggest factor, the reason why she was standing like some kind of Gothic-novel damsel in distress, was because she’d grown to love her newfound family; Sirius, Tonks, Andy, Helena, Edison, Cerise, the Twins, Willow, and the Scoobies. Intellectually she knew that the chances of everyone living a long life in the business they were in were slim, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear when you lose someone. It also didn’t help that she was feeling as if she needed to relearn all the control she’d cultivated as she processed her intense grief. The bubbling cauldron of rage boiling in her veins wanted out, wanted action, the kind of action she could no longer afford. That behavior led to badness, to bad decision-making, and so this was why she was letting the rain wash over her, even as her magic erupted in random streaks of colored light around her.

Then there was this kid, Harry Potter. She’d heard so much about him, particularly from Sirius and Remus. In many ways she could relate to him; life had generally handed the kid a raw-deal. Judging by the equally painful response by Harry following the Ministry fight and Sirius’ death, Faith felt compelled to pick up where her uncle had left off. Faith had also learned that the Wizarding world took the role of god-parenting very serious, so it stood to reason that Faith would insist that she’d look after him. Especially since she suspected that unlike the Scoobies preparing for battle, Harry wasn’t always given the necessary information to make informed decisions – even if he is a kid.

One thing she’d learned about being a Scooby and a Slayer is that under extreme conditions, people, even kids Harry’s age had the remarkable ability to adapt, mostly because if they didn’t they could die. Clenching her fists, her wand standing up under the Slayer-pressurized squeeze in her left hand, she allowed her head to fall forward, her chin drooping down to her upper-chest. The weight on her shoulders that’d been steadily increasing as her involvement in this war against this Voldy-dick suddenly became heavier. But then a pair of glowing whiskey-colored eyes flashed through her mind, subconsciously jarring her from her thoughts.

Her name was Hermione Granger and Faith found herself responding to her, even among all the fighting, or the aftermath of anger, grief, and weariness. She wondered about the witch’s closeness to Harry since she was one of the few who he allowed to comfort him. At that thought, Faith found the simmering rage practically burst from her core to expel from her fingertips and wand via her magic, singeing the ground around her. The idea of the russet-haired witch being with anyone was… suddenly intolerable. For the moment, Faith refused to acknowledge why.

Using the meditative exercises taught by Helena, the iron-grip around her wand threatening to snap it in two, slowly lessened, and the intermittent jets of light randomly erupting from either her wand or fingers grew weaker until the boiling cauldron of emotion, need for violence, and Incidental magic finally quieted. Tipping her head back, Faith let out a loud roar befitting her Animagus, leaving her in a calmer, yet saddened state. Sighing deeply, brushing tears she didn’t realize she’d been shedding, Faith prepared to _Apparate_. It was time to take care of some things.


	25. Chapter 25

**A Bad Gone Worse**

Meanwhile Willow, along with Dawn, Auror Kingsley Shaklebolt, Helena, and Remus, escorted the weary and brave Hogwarts wizards back to the school. Dumbledore insisted that once they had settled things, he wanted Willow to wait for him in his office. Willow loved Dumbledore’s office, mostly because she got to talk to the fascinating figures locked within the wizarding photos along the walls. Former Hogwarts Headmasters, they were a fount of information and gossip. In addition, when Willow wasn’t sneaking into some of Albus’ prized lemon-drops, she was stroking the headmaster’s beautiful phoenix, Fawkes. 

At the moment she was worried about Faith. While she knew that the Slayer-Witch could take care of herself, the red-head wanted to be there for her friend in her time of grief. Not to mention, Willow was suitably sad herself; after all, Willow would miss all the playful moments between her and Faith’s uncle. Willow had sort of been ‘adopted’ by the few remaining Blacks, led by Sirius, so it made his passing even more painful. Tonks had already gone to find her mother to relay the news and she suspected that once Faith… _processed_ things, she’d go to Andromeda as well.  Sneaking a look at a despondent Harry Potter, being fussed over by his friend, the brown-haired witch, Hermione, while a male wizard named Neville, and an odd blonde witch named Luna looked on, they finally arrived at the gates of Hogwarts. Before they arrived at Hogwarts, they’d gone to St. Mungos to tend to any injuries. While there, another of Harry’s friends, another red-head, Ron had been regaling the non-Hogwarts audience with the misdeeds of Dolores Umbridge and her Slytherin goons. Ron had stayed behind with his family, as they accompanied Harry, Hermione and friends back to Hogwarts. Willow, along with Dawn, Moody, and Remus were also tasked with dealing with Dolores Umbridge. Needless to say, the red-head sincerely hoped the bi…witch made it back from her ‘difficulties’ at the hands of the centaurs.

However, the so-called High Inquisitor of Hogwarts’ (what kind of title is that?!) bad day was just beginning, because armed with a document from the cowering soon-to-be-dismissed Minister Fudge, Willow had been charged with ‘taking back the castle.’ In addition, Willow would join the staff in a general administrative role – but really she’ll be assisting Dumbledore. He’d slowly been drawing her into his confidence, sometimes at Willow’s not-so-gentle prodding --- keeping information from your loved ones, particularly during times of war, can be detrimental.

The Scoobies learned this the hard way. Helena stood on one side, lending her strength in her quietly supportive, yet authoritative presence. She too was grieving, having also grown somewhat fond of Sirius, but also knowing how much her granddaughter was suffering. She kept stealing glances around, hoping Faith would arrive so she could comfort her. Standing next to her, Dawn was practically vibrating with excitement.

Giles had sent her along to smooth any issues regarding Willow’s appointment, as well as Faith’s admittance. Unbeknownst to the Dark Slayer-Witch, they anticipated Faith wanting to keep a close eye on Harry Potter due to Sirius’ death, so they decided to ‘plant’ her as a seventh-year student. Unfortunately, it remained up to both Willow and Dawn to break the news to their friend who hated school in general. Willow wondered what House the Dark Slayer would be sorted into – knowing Faith, she’d end up in Slytherin, and would no doubt revel in the controversy that would stir up among all the die-hard Gryffindor-Order members and the delight of her Aunt Andromeda.

If the Scoobies learned anything it is that **nothing** is that black and white: all Gryffindors weren’t honorable and good and all Slytherins weren’t evil Voldemort supporters. If anyone could challenge this societal status-quo it’d be Faith and secretly Willow couldn’t wait for the fireworks. Finally, they came upon the elaborate Hogwarts gates, shaking off the impressive wards guarding the property. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall would normally be there to greet them; however she was still recovering from Umbridge’s attack. Instead stood the towering Half-Giant, Rubeus Hagrid.

“Oi, come along you’s. Welcome to Hogwarts. The students are all atwitter since Umbridge was returned. Had to go get ‘er meself from the Centaurs. She’s lucky I arrived in time. Right mad they were.” He looked down from his impressive height at the Hogwarts students, focusing on a quiet Harry. He gently patted the young wizard’s shoulder, compassion shining from his dark eyes. “Sorry ‘bout Sirius, Harry. He was a great wizard and good man.”

He escorted them into the main entrance where they were met by diminutive, yet powerful Charms Professor FIlius Flitwick who was the acting Headmaster until either Dumbledore or McGonagall returns. Willow lightly shivered as the powerful and ancient Hogwarts magic washed over her. Willow absolutely loved it here! She desperately wished she’d attended the school, but that would mean she’d have to get her wand – which she’d been putting off. Honestly, the thought of more magic, more power frightened her, even though she’d been working with Albus, Minerva, and Andy, along with her Coven leader, on her control. Nevertheless, it was fear she could never get rid of – Faith often stated that was exactly why the red-head had been chosen. If she didn’t respect and fear what that amount of power could do, then it made it easier for Dark Willow to make an appearance when things went bad.

Harry and Neville, followed by Luna went on ahead to their respective House dormitories, while Hermione momentarily paused as if hearing something in the air. It was at that moment that the doors opened once again to admit a rain-dampened Faith. Helena immediately reached for her to enfold her in a bone-crushing hug, even as Faith’s eyes began searching the small group. Willow watched as her friend’s eyes were immediately drawn to Hermione, the young witch’s eyes locking with Faith’s. Raising an eyebrow, Willow shared a knowing look with Dawn, before continuing further into Hogwarts.

.


	26. Chapter 26

**She REALLY Hates Children**

 

Dolores Umbridge hated teaching and children, which is a curious statement considering her current assignment. She was still twitching and exceedingly sore from her capture by those overgrown beasts, the centaurs. Further indignity was visited upon her because it was none other than that idiot lout, Hagrid who saved her. Currently she was sitting in the Headmaster’s Rooms, trying to spell away her smaller injuries as she waited for Madame Pomfrey, along with that insolent little runt, Filius Flitwick, and Snape.

The Undersecretary thought it’d be wise to gather whatever dignity she had left before she allowed her wrath to be felt throughout Hogwarts. These students had no idea what they were dealing with! Once the Death-Eaters-turned-Aurors arrived, namely the Carrow siblings, she’d truly be able to exact some discipline and proper punishment; starting with Potter and his friends, particularly that girl, the Mudblood Granger.

After the last small wound closed up from the Dittany potion, Dolores straightened her tattered skirt and jacket, just as the door opened. Before she could give into outrage that someone entered without her permission, she was astonished to rather large group of people enter. Starting with a young, red-headed woman, along with Auror Kingsley Shaklebolt, another young woman with dark-blonde hair, Filius Flitwick, a dignified older witch with startling silver hair, whom she’ll learn is Helena Ravendor, a stoic Severus Snape, and finally another young woman with dark-hair so black she was certain the color could blot out the sun. But most interesting about the last woman was that she bore a startling resemblance to any number of family members of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, Dolores would swear she was Sirius Black’s whelp, or that barmey Bellatrix’s off-spring.

If the way she was currently glaring at Dolores was any indication, the dark-haired woman clearly had the infamous Black _look of death_ perfected. Once everyone formed a loose half-circle around Dolores, staring at her accusingly, the older witch found herself lifting her chin, even as a sense of foreboding slithered down her spine. She noticed that the dark-haired woman didn’t join the group, but prowled around the office, picking up and putting down things, all the while casting murderous glares her way. It made Dolores even more concerned – she suspected her already horrible day, was about to continue.

It was Kingsley Shaklebolt who spoke first. Handing over a scroll, Dolores’ eyes immediately zeroed in on the Ministry stamp. “Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge, you are hereby relinquished of your duties, effective immediately. In addition, you have been charged with child endangerment and torture.”  He continued, ignoring her gasp of outrage (and no little fright). “Finally, you are also being charged with sedition against the Ministry of Magic, Great Britain, and attempted murder of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”

As he read, everyone was greedily focusing on watching Dolores’ reactions; first her skin became an ugly shade of red, before slowly turning ghastly white and pale. But there was another whose intense emotions threatened to swallow the tension in the room.  That is until a hoarse, whiskey-soaked voice spoke out.

“You should also know that it is takin’ everything that I have to not put ya ten feet deep.” It was at this point that Dolores hadn’t even heard the young dark-haired woman move. She now stood only a foot away, menace flowing off of her, as she moved closer until she towered over Dolores.

Faith ignored the others in the room, particularly those who bravely readied themselves to intervene if needed. As Faith slowly lifted her wandless hand to Umbridge’s face, Dawn moved closer, her hand reaching out just as Faith firmly gripped Dolores wobbly chin, while her other hand gripped Dolores’ wand hand tightly.

Leaning her face closer, she growled “You better fuckin’ hope you go to Azkaban or somewhere far, far away because if I see you again, if I hear you involved with that Dark Dick,” she called Voldemort to the dismay and horror of the other occupants, “then I’m gonna find ya, and I’m gonna hit you so hard, your dried-up ovaries will come flying outta that pug nose of yours.”

Just as Dolores was about to attempt a weak attempt of protest both at her treatment, and more importantly, the charges indicted against her, she was immediately quieted by a squeeze from the vice-grip on her chin and hand.

Slightly squeezing on her fleshy chin, along with her wand-hand, enjoying the sound of the slight crunch of bones protesting, Faith wanted to make sure this bitch got the message. “Clear?!”

With eyes beginning to water at both the intense pain, as well as the fact that the life that she knew, was about to change for the worse, Dolores attempted to nod. “Understood.”  
  
Then with a little push that caused Dolores to rock back and stumble on her heels, Shaklebolt stepped forward, spelling a small _Incarcerous_ spell, binding Umbridge’s wrists, while Remus confiscated her wand. At this point, Helena Ravendor icily spoke, “I believe the students are just settling down for a meal. I recommend walking her through the Great Hall and out the front doors. It will begin the healing process for Hogwarts.”

As the diplomatic liaison to the Ministry from the American Ministry, Helena, a Ravendor, and a soon-to-be Professor at Hogwarts, her opinions carried some weight. Plus, they were all still reeling with this evening’s earlier events, and were feeling anger and despair over the loss of Sirius. Faith, Tonks, Remus and Willow in particular. Even Helena had all grown close with Sirius. Through Faith, the Houses of Ravendor and Black became connected. Many an evening were spent hotly debating various topics with Sirius. Plus Helena couldn’t forget that outrageous, yet exhilarating ride with Sirius on his infamous flying motorcycle. Casting a concerned look at her granddaughter, Helena wondered if Faith had had a chance to speak to Andromeda yet.

_Earlier, Faith had just arrived from wherever she disappeared to, wet and brooding. She’d arrived to a full-house at Black Manor. Andromeda had been waiting for her in the small parlor off from the front entrance. She’d shed her tears much earlier, leaving her eyes slightly swollen and red. Blacks didn’t give into all-out sobbing; they tended to emote through anger. Her eldest sister exemplified this poor method of coping._

_When Faith walked through the door, Andromeda hurried from the parlor and met her as her niece stood by the front door. Everyone else was upstairs finalizing the details of the new mission to counter the damage of Battle of Mysteries, and an infiltrated Ministry, and Dolores Umbridge. Cerise and Edison will take on positions within the Ministry, Willow, Tonks, Helena, and Faith had been designated to attend Hogwarts. Helena will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts’ post with Willow as her Assistant and guard-duty. Tonks will be in an administrative role, but will really be in a protective guard duty. Faith had been elected to actually pose as a 7 th year student, who transferred from the American Salem Academy. Similar to both Tonks and Willow, she’ll also be on guard-duty. Ideally they hoped she’d gather intel on any students whose family is rumored to have allegiance to Voldemort._

_As for the reason Dawn is attending Hogwarts, it had taken some convincing, particularly Giles and Buffy, but Giles needed another person to provide intel only to the Council. In addition, like Hermione Granger, Dawn **loved** learning, and learning magic was even better. That didn’t mean, she derive intense satisfaction from watching, even tag-teaming with Giles as he went up against the incompetent Ministry. Giles really wanted her at the Ministry, but Cerise, Edison, as well as Rowena will be working with the Order members, as well as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to begin ferreting out Voldemort- supporters. Plus now that Willow was too busy to personally guide her through her burgeoning magic, Hogwarts was the next best thing. _

_However among all this planning was the grief felt by members of the House of Black – Harry Potter, Tonks, Faith, and Andromeda. Andromeda suspected that once Cissy found out, she’d be equally as distressed over the loss of her cousin. She and Tonks had already exchanged heartfelt hugs and tears; the moment Sirius passed, Andromeda swore she felt the loss. Like a soundless wound being sucked out, until there was this phantom pain like some essential body-part gone missing. She remembered that she’d been lifting a cup of tea to her lips, worrying about the mission to the Ministry, the attack on Arthur Weasley, and more importantly the fact that the few family members who she loved and cared about, were entering into the fray._

_She had wanted to go, but Moody and Remus insisted that she remain here; Tonks, Faith, and Sirius would need her – Andromeda’s healing skills were quite famous. And so were her dueling skills; she was a Black, and she learned magic as a Black, as Dumbledore reminded her. In the event, Order members began to fall, they would need a second wave; she represented this wave. There was a final reason for her to remain here; next to the Golden Trio, Dumbledore, and even Moody, Andromeda remained on Voldemort-pureblood fanatics’ hit-list, and would likely be gleefully executed by her eldest sister, Bellatrix if she has the opportunity._

_Ted, Tonks, and Faith couldn’t afford to lose her, she’d become the glue to this version of the Black family, which was why as soon as her eyes fell upon her niece, she stepped towards her and immediately enfolded her in her arms. At first, Faith remained stiff, but then eventually her body slumped, and hot tears began falling onto Andromeda’s neck._

_“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save him, Andy. “_

_Tightening her arms, she brought one hand up to gently tip Faith’s face up to hers. “Faith, it’s not your fault and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, to forgive.”_

_Gently shifting back from Faith, the older Black gently brushed the tears from Faith’s cheeks. “Sirius would no doubt, be rolling his eyes at all our tears. Now that you are the Black Heir,” she gently smiled at seeing Faith’s look of consternation, “you’ll need to begin making arrangements. And Faith?” She stared intently into her niece’s eyes, “you’ll need to be strong. War has been declared, not just on the Wizarding world as we know it, but on the House of Black. I know you’ll do what needs doing because you’re no longer alone – you have family, friends, and a life worth fighting for.”_

_Andromeda began ushering Faith upstairs. “Now, let’s get some food and drink in you. Plans have been made and put into motion.”_

_Her voice hoarse with tears, Faith spoke up. “What the hell does that mean?!”_

_“It means, you’ll be going to school.” Andromeda gave a little smile at Faith’s look of outrage._


	27. Chapter 27

**Need to Escape**

Following that, Faith was provided with detailed reports about what went on at Hogwarts at Fudge and Dolores Umbridge’s direction, as well as a preliminary report on the state of the Ministry.  Once she sorted through the rage, she discovered that the pounding headache that had been threatening to explode finally did.  It went without saying, that some of that tension was alleviated when she had Umbridge’s jowls in her hand.  She was further satisfied as she watched as Umbridge was marched down the center aisle of the Great Hall, filled with students, while the professors looked on.

Many Slytherins began looking somewhat pale and shaken, as a cuffed and wandless Dolores Umbridge was marched right out of the school. It wasn’t until the doors leading out, thundered shut after the parade of Aurors and Umbridge, that the first trickle of murmuring, foot-stomping, shouts, and applause began to make itself known. It didn’t take long for this applause to grow thunderous and mighty, even under the sullen gaze of the Slytherins. Even many of the professors got into the act.

Finally, as Acting Headmaster until either Dumbledore or McGonagall returned, stood in the middle of the platform where all the professors sat, placed the tip of his wand against his cheek while muttering a Sound Amplifier spell.

“Please, take your seats. Yes, yes, everyone please take your seats and **silence** ,” his voice echoed out through the hall, quieting the students. “Thank you. Now, allow me to be the first to announce that Albus Dumbledore has been exonerated and returned to his post as Headmaster of Hogwarts!”

At that more thunderous applause sounded out, until he asked for quiet once again. “In addition, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor Minerva McGonagall is recovering and will also return to her post.” Again, more applause met this statement, until he motioned for them to quiet yet again.

It was at this time that Dumbledore walked through the doors. Harry and Hermione immediately straightened from their slumped positions, happy to see their Headmaster. Protectively cleaving herself to Harry’s side, they ignored the looks of consideration and concern from their fellow Gryffindor’s as Dumbledore nodded in their direction. Relieved, Filius smiled happily, nodding at Albus, and stepped down to his seat.

“Thank you Professor Flitwick.” He then focused his attention on the students.

 “This teaching staff and the Ministry of Magic owe you a sincere apology. As executors of education, charged with the safety of young wizards and witches within Hogwarts, we have failed you, and your families. By preventing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s influence on the institutions charged with the health and safety of the Wizarding community, we might have avoided Dolores Umbridge’s appointment to Hogwarts. Additionally, we might have been able to prevent certain student factions from having to participate in the heinous activities visited upon several students, as well as professors.”

There was stark silence that met Dumbledore’s statement; everyone within the hall, even Hogwarts itself was listening. “But we did not and we will have to live with that failure. However. Voldemort has returned, as evidence of his recent appearance at the Ministry of Magic.” He continued on, ignoring the urgent whispers and gasps.  “We now must take steps to shore up Hogwarts’ defenses, for a war has begun, and you can be sure that once again, Hogwarts will be at the center of it, with darkness threatening us all. We must continue to be the Light.” Dumbledore flicked his wand and once again the Hall filled with light, House banners fell from the ceiling, frightened and cowering spirits flitted through the air, and the thick, tension-filled darkness, tainted with pain and fear, was suddenly banished. For the moment.

“Now, onto to new teaching appointments. A distinguished American witch representing the American Ministry of Magic and the Salem Academy of Magic, Helena Ravendor will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. May she prosper in her new role. In addition, we have another guest appointment by the American Ministry of Magic, Willow Rosenberg. She will serve as my Administrative Assistant and occasional Substitute in the fields of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as will be filling in for Professor McGonagall, as the temporary Transfiguration Professor. Please give a warm welcome to our new additions.”

More thunderous applause met his announcements. “Mr. Filch please remove all notices and as always the Dark Forest is prohibited. Now please return to your Houses to prepare for your Winter break.”

 

* * *

 

Instead of going to the Gryffindor dorms, Harry escaped to the one of the many towers. This one looked out onto Hagrid’s hut, and farther away, the Dark Forest. Hearing footsteps, Harry grabbed his wand and turned. He slumped in weariness when he saw his friend Hermione, before returning his gaze to the landscape. Hermione settled in next to him, dug into her bag and pulled out a blanket, which she then draped over both their shoulders. Both were utterly exhausted and sore. Hermione had to escape the questions, the insensitive remarks and speculation, the noise from her fellow classmates. She was so grateful that tomorrow they were leaving for Winter Break.

Gently laying her head on Harry’s shoulder, she couldn’t help but wonder what were their next steps, but didn’t want to ruin the moments of silence. However she wanted to remind Harry about something. “I’m sorry about Sirius, Harry. I hope you know you cannot do this alone, so your attempts to shut me or Ron out, won’t work. Just remember that.”

With a slight nod from Harry, the moment once again descended into silence. They watched a shooting star zip across the sky and both wished for better times ahead. Later on they found themselves in the Hogwarts kitchens, Dobby fussing over them, bringing piles of food. And for those few hours, they both reveled in the false sense of normalcy. But in another part of Hogwarts, deep in the Slytherin dungeons, Draco Malfoy prepared himself for yet another sleepless night.

Tomorrow he’d be returning home, to the madness that ensued. Starting with his batty, psycho Aunt Bellatrix, or the man he’d looked up to all his life, the person he hoped to emulate, only to watch him become a complete and cowardly fraud, his father Lucius Malfoy.  Next up was the constant harassment and threats from various Death Eaters milling about, particularly that distasteful lout, Fenrir Greyback.  And last, but certainly not least, the regular appearance of the thoroughly unsettling Dark Lord, curdled constant fear in his stomach like acid. It was his mother who remained the only beacon of light in his otherwise darkening world, a world beset by Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

Draco thought he was preparedand hearing all the stories his father shared with throughout the years, he believed he was suited for the Dark Lord’s agenda after being groomed most of his life for a role within Voldemort’s world. He’d been the most vocal supporter of pureblood values… and it had been all a sham. In fact, he’d signed up for something without carefully considering the details, the ‘small print’ as it were. Throughout the years, his mother tried to teach him to be circumspect regarding the choices (or lack thereof) he’d have to make pertaining to his future– particularly those with serious consequences.

But it was his father’s arrogance and blind-faith that has brought Draco to this point… as well as his own. He was honest enough with himself to know that while he’d been groomed for this moment, it was his dismissive attitude towards fully understanding between making a choice between what was right and what was easy. So tomorrow, he was to be brought before the Dark Lord and chances are he’d be given a mission which would change him forever; a mission that would ‘earn’ him his Dark Mark, the ultimate symbol of loyalty towards Voldemort.

He didn’t want it. It was much simpler being a small-time bully towards first-years in Hogwarts, it was entirely something different to torture or murder someone.  To add to his misery was his father. Lucius Malfoy had been born into privilege – the Malfoy line was almost as old and moneyed as the House of Black.  He rarely had to work for anything, except when it came to entrepreneurship and finance, which his father excelled at, increasing the Malfoy coffers. What he didn’t excel at was being an ‘evil henchmen’, which wouldn’t be so bad if he had enough bravery to protect his family and escape.

He didn’t. Instead Lucius kept trying to earn himself back into the Dark Lord’s good graces, hence the reason why Draco is being drafted into service now.  Lucius didn’t consider the fact that Draco might fail at whatever impossible task Voldemort might order, perhaps even getting killed or sent to Azkaban in the process. His father didn’t even consider that given his own… failures, the Dark Lord would cruelly punish him by ordering Lucius’ own son to attempt a near impossible task, guaranteeing that Draco would fail, and then killing Draco as a result.

His mother had been sending him owls non-stop, secretly conveying her worry, and even more discreetly promising Draco that she would do everything possible to help and protect him. Unlike his father. He felt truly bad for his mother, he watched as she played hostess to wizards and witches she despised. Icily managing a household beset by her crazy sister, polluted by the likes of Greyback, or having to ignore the occasional scream from the dungeons, and a husband who looked increasingly unhinged, she nevertheless carried out her role as pureblood wife. Honestly, he wished he could grab up his mum and disappear.

For now, all he could hope was that he wouldn’t lose his soul, if not his life, because with magic there are worse things than dying. 

 

* * *

 

Harry, accompanied by Hermione stood on the street hiding his godfather’s house, the Order’s Headquarters. He almost dreaded going in because he’d be reminded of Sirius. He was thankful that Hermione was with him because Harry wasn’t certain he’d have enough strength to go in. A ‘pop’ sounding nearby startled them, causing Harry and Hermione to pull their wands. Only it was none other than Faith Ravendor, accompanied by that red-head wandless witch, Willow Rosenberg. Relaxing and lowering their wands, they waited for the two women to come closer. Harry noticed that the dark-haired woman looked tired and… like Harry, the grief seemed to hang on her like a cloud.

“Hey.  Thought we’d keep you company.” Before they could answer, Faith began walking towards the hidden townhouse, pulling her wand to mutter the spell to reveal the home from the _Fidelius Charm_.  Harry watched suspiciously as the home shuddered into their reality and Faith casually walked to the door.

But the door opened before she could knock, revealing Andromeda Tonks. “Faith! Harry! Hello Hermione. Do come in; don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Hermione carried her beaded bag with the undetectable extension charm, allowing her to carry her trunk inside. Harry simply maneuvered his trunk the old-fashioned wizard way, with a simple levitation charm.  However Harry was more concerned as to why Faith Ravendor was prowling inside Sirius’ home like she… lived here. Feeling a sense of anger, resentment, and all-around intractableness, Harry directed these emotions to what he thought would be an easy target. Of course, Harry wasn’t thinking very clearly these days; the pressure of saving the wizarding world, the constant stream of violent images being sent through his unfortunate mind-link with Voldemort, and Sirius’ death needed an outlet.

“Who are you? And why are you here?!”

Ignoring the furtive looks coming from Willow, while trying to ignore the intoxicating brunette, Faith froze on the stairs to refocus her attention on the boy-wonder. “Look kid, I get you got a lot of questions, but I’m tired as all hell, and more importantly I’m hungry. So if you think you can straighten your knotted panties until I get a breather, I’d appreciate it.” And with that, Faith bounded up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring the squawk of protests coming from the Harry and Hermione.

With a little hand-wringing, Willow looked at Harry with pools of compassion. “I’m sorry about that. She’s a tad prickly – which I guess she’s not alone.”  She held up a hand to stave off more questions. “I know you have questions, but it is not my story to tell, I promise things will be made much clearer very soon.” She patted both Harry and Hermione’s shoulders before following after her friend.

Andromeda stood back to watch proceedings, wondering if she should step in, but knew that Faith would want to handle this. Nevertheless, she did have a bond with Harry, made more formal with Sirius’ passing. “Harry, Willow is right. But I do believe we have some business to attend to. Yet, now is not the time; you need food and rest. Tomorrow we’ll all have a sit down at  breakfast and we’ll explain a few things.” She started up the stairs, ushering the two Hogwarts’ students. Once they reached the door where Harry and Ron would be staying she paused, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Being a Black is… difficult. No more so when one of us dies. Sirius…” she swallowed a thick band of tears before continuing. “Sirius was like a brother to me and too much of our lives were spent fighting against the tide, that we had so little time to be… family.” She paused again, her eyelashes becoming damp with tears unshed. “That is an oversight I hope to improve with you, Harry.” She gave him a gentle, heartfelt hug, before letting him go. “Get some rest; I’ll see you in the morning.”

Andromeda watched as Hermione hugged him, wondering if there was something romantic there, but dismissed it. Ushering, the young witch to her room that she’d be sharing with Ginny, she gentled her to a stop before she went in. “Thank you Hermione. I know we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other, but I know Harry thinks very highly of you.” Suddenly Andromeda grinned. “They say you’re the brightest witch of our age. Not a bad moniker for a Muggle-born. I’ve a feeling that’ll be just the thing to turn the tides.”

Winking, Andromeda nodded at the younger witch before turning on her heel to walk down the hall. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Villains & Demons**

“You know in the Muggle world, you’d no doubt, be classified as a psychopath, which is fine for me. I don’t judge. No need to deal with that pesky, irritating conscious, much less a soul.”

The seemingly human male, leaned calmly back in his chair ignoring the struggling Dark Wizard, who‘d been bound with some kind of powerful invisible force.  Deeply tan, thick hair slicked back with expensive hair product, wearing an expensive, light-blue, pin-stripe suit, complete with a bold-striped silk tie. One would think that he was simply a wealthy Muggle visiting.

But it was his eyes that gave him away. Depthless onyx orbs, soullessness that bespoke cruelty and dispassion. Evilness oozed from his pours and even made Voldemort slightly uneasy. Snapping his fingers, a bottle of expensive scotch and a glass appeared on the table next to his chair. After pouring himself two ‘fingers’, he settled himself more comfortably as he considered his latest… client.

“Now, if you do everything I say, I promise you that you will be this world’s undisputed ruler, along with wealth and power beyond your imagination. “ Looking at Voldemort’s rather depressing robes, he added, “You know, I’m not sure if it’s your rather boring attempts to look ‘villainy’, but is there a reason why your robes resemble a bat?”

Not expecting an answer or really needing one, Balthazar focused on his new duties as Wolfram & Hart’s new emissary to Voldemort’s efforts.  He filled a rare but crucial role; filling the Well of Souls. Voldemort had already given up his, but the evil firm saw the potential for a great deal more, perhaps even fulfilling their annual quota. He was much higher in the food chain than even that fraud, Angel; Balthazar represented the **Black Hand**.

“How dare you presume that I need help from the likes of you! Do y-“  
  
“Let me cut you off right there. If I so desired, I could snap my fingers and a horde of demons would descend on this building. tearing apart you and your subordinates limb from limb. So your pitiful attempts at ‘beating your chest’ is only boring me even more. And when I’m bored, I lose interest, and when I lose interest, I tend to get nasty. All, without me chipping a single, well-manicured nail.”

This time, acknowledging his growing annoyance at this speck of dirt beneath his shoe, his onyx-colored eyes became started to glow, his features became sharper, teeth lengthening, as he leaned forward menacingly. Lifting his hand, he gave twist of his wrist. Balthazar watched as Voldemort’s back bowed, as a sudden and ‘mysterious’ case of swollen and diseased lungs made themselves felt, indicating late-stage cancer. When Tom Riddle started to cough up thick, dark blood, Balthazar gave another twitch of his hand, bringing instant relief to the dark wizard.

Tilting his head as if he were examining a scientific experiment, he watched as Voldemort gasped, breathing heavily; his mind still processing the sudden disappearance of the intense, terrible pain. With his bony hand clutching his chest, blood dribbling down his chin, Voldemort could only stare at the creature greedily watching him.

“We will provide you with soldiers that will tear through those righteous goody-two shoes like tissue paper. However, they won’t follow someone who does not… represent them. An evil wizard is old hat. An evil wizard, with the strength and power of a Vampire, is entirely different.” Once again, sitting back in his chair, he reached for his glass. “Besides, the adjustment will be like riding a bike, since it’s not like you have a soul.”

 

* * *

 

The wizard formally known as Tom Riddle, only had a moment of unease as he transitioned into being a vampire – it probably had something to do with the sharp fangs tearing into his neck.  As the blood finally drained from his body, the demon that took up residence found itself in an odd position: there was no soul. However, it simply ‘shrugged’ and settled itself comfortably within the dark wizard. Voldemort’s magic experienced something else entirely. Wizarding magic was a curious thing, simplified by being either Dark or Light. However _intention_ made things more complex, blurring the lines, stretching the old adage of ‘means to an end.’

But when one practiced Dark magic for an extended length of time AND somehow loses their soul during the process, like using the famous Elder Wand, the magic no longer flows as smoothly, creating tiny cracks at its core. This phenomenon was made worse as Voldemort transitioned into a half-breed demon. However, at the moment, the rush of power flowing through his veins made him feel more omnipotent than usual.

His lieutenants were another story.  Some like Yaxley, whose souls were already corrupted, and would probably also be classified as a psychopath, had no qualms about becoming a demon-wizard. Others, who thought their Cause was just, a means to sustain and ultimately, save the Wizarding world, became distinctly unsettled, if not downright scared. _What had they signed up for?_ they wondered, right before the already Turned vampire-wizards fell upon them like locusts. Then there were those who’d intently watched and assessed before either deciding to agree to this new ‘direction,’ or surprisingly, like Bellatrix, thought it was an abomination, and wanted no part of it. It was one of the increasing, yet still too few lucid moments she’d been having lately.

This was made more so immediately following events at the Department of Mysteries. She knew her Dark Lord wanted to personally Turn her, and knew she’d have only a short window of opportunity before making a decision that would once again, change her life. Whether it was for the better, she wasn’t certain – probably not, if her past crimes were anything to go by. And she **was** a Black and rarely do things end well for a Black. However there was one thing she had to address immediately; Cissy and Draco.

Soundlessly hurrying down the hall, she sought out Narcissa, only to realize she wasn’t on the premises. This presented an even bigger problem for her. There was no way she’d allow her sister to become a filthy vampire! These versions were even worse than the pathetic wizarding vampire, and she would not allow this strain to muck up the already, rather murky Black bloodline.  Turning around, she made her way to her room, grimacing over the sounds of blood and feeding as she passed the drawing room, refusing to look at what was happening in the room. Bellatrix steeled herself because she suspected that window of opportunity was closing fast and she now had mere moments.

“Bella! My sweet, darling Bellatrix! Come.” Aside from her sisters, only one other person called her ‘Bella,’ causing her to break out in cold sweat, as a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time, curled up her spine, to settle in her stomach like icy cement: fear of the Dark Lord.

Quickly thinking, after all what made Bellatrix such a fearsome adversary was that she quite brilliant; she still held the record for the most O-marks in Hogwarts history. It was also one of the reasons Voldemort made her his second-in-command. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that fumbling idiot Goyle coming down the hall. Quickly she cast _Confundus_ charm, before freezing him in place. Then she Accio-ed a bottle of Polyjuice potion, plucked a strand of her hair, placed it into the potion, gave it a shake, and then stepped close to Goyle.

Quiet and commanding, Bellatrix pierced him with her dark eyes; she gave another wave of her wand to _Imperius_ Goyle. “Now, you are going to drink this and become Bellatrix Lestrange. You will do everything I would do, follow the Dark Lord without question, while clearing your mind of the **real** Bellatrix Lestrange’s existence.”

Quickly she shoved the potion to his lips and tipped the bottle. Stepping back, she watched as Goyle’s body twisted, shuddered, and swelled until her exact twin stood before her. “Now go, the Dark Lord has called for you.” And with that she watched as ‘she’ almost skipped crazily down the hall to the drawing room, right as Bellatrix _Apparated_ to her room. Gathering anything important, she then hurried to Narcissa’s room to do the same, before _Apparating_ once again, away from the Manor leaving the signature black smoke in her wake.

Landing on a hillside, Bellatrix began to consider her options. First, she had to find Narcissa. Lifting her wand, she casted Black-special, Location charm. Suddenly a purple orb appeared before quickly zipping away. Impatiently waiting, Bellatrix began to come up with a plan – albeit an outrageous one, but one that was rather titillating since she became easily bored. It was also around this time, that Bellatrix in a moment of quiet, acknowledged something odd building within her. The tension that’d always existed within her small frame seemed… lighter, her magic seemed… lighter as well. Yet, she realized that this was not a sudden evolution.

Her random forays into lucidity following her release from Azkaban began slowly, intermittently. Most wizards assumed she began as something else - crazy, psychotic, hateful. However, through breeding, a series of dark memorable events, painful relationships, a dynamic and powerful dark wizard, cultivated a damaged, haunted, yet scarily brilliant witch. But the unconditional love and stern support from her sister, sleepless nights filled with images of victims, followed by the most recent debilitating punishment compliments of her Dark Lord, began a series of revelations that started almost miniscule. They continued to swell until her most recent moment outside of that drawing room, swallowing back nausea as she listened to the wet, sticky sounds of blood and tearing and feeding. At this moment, standing under the night sky, on a grassy hillside, Bellatrix suddenly realized she could breathe. She never realized how she’d been suffocating within the Dark magic environment.

This was made more so when that… creature, Balthazar became a regular visitor. Granted this phenomenon started way before Balthazar, exacerbated during her stint at Azkaban. It was at this time, that she decided to send a message to the person who’d least expect it, someone who’d been the only one who’d ever given her a choice. Closing her eyes, concentrating, she sent out a ‘call.’ Moments later, a small gust of wind preceded Marco, her magnificent bird of prey. Looking like a cross between a falcon and an eagle, a Black-Chested Buzzard Eagle. It was a huge, intimidating bird. Great golden eyes, huge talons, with a bulky, powerful build, broad-winged, and the slightly tapered tail is short by comparison and colored black, with grey tips in its fresh plumage. Marco rarely interacted with other birds, or most people. It hated her husband, barely tolerated Draco, and liked Cissy.

Nevertheless, if there was a message that needed to be delivered, she trusted no other creature than Marco. After tying her message on his leg, she took a deep breath. “Deliver this message to Minerva McGonagall immediately.”

With a gentle nip to her fingers and an answering squawk, Marco took to the sky, his wing-span making an impressive image against the night-sky.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I SINCERELY apologize for the serious delay in this story. 2013 has been... challenging, and I've started to come up for air, as it were. I thank EVERYONE who took the time to read my story, and in particular to those who kindly gave feedback or are now Following my story. You have continuously motivated me, while reminding me how much fun it is to actually create this little world.

 

**A Reluctant Connection**

_Back at Grimmauld Place_

After turning over for what felt like the thousandth time, Faith finally gave up. Even though her body (and mind) was literally beyond exhaustion, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was going a mile a minute, thinking about everything from the dread of ‘pretending’ of going back to school, to her responsibility towards Harry, along with dealing with emotions like grief and anger over Sirius’ death, even having to play spy on possible Voldy supporters within Slytherin House. The fact is Faith was worried that she’d fuck up, being around all those Dark Arts-wannabe rejects, wondering if there was something in her blood that might magically respond to whatever Slytherin bullshit being thrown around.

And then there was the fact that she, Faith Black-Ravendor was the **true** Heir to Slytherin. Not that pencil-dick with a god-complex, Voldemort. She knew at some point soon, she’d have to finally visit Salazar Slytherin’s Vault. But the biggest reason she couldn’t sleep, the ‘reason’ that elicited a sensation like a buzzing in her brain, also causing her to kick the sheets off her body, and had the scent of citrus and honey clinging to her nostrils like smoke. The reason she really couldn’t sleep had to do with the chestnut-haired young witch that accompanied Harry, Hermione Granger.

From what she’d gathered from either Tonks or Andy, Hermione was brilliant, courageous, and had more times than not, kept her two BFFs from getting killed during their time at Hogwarts. Who knew a school that wasn’t on a Hellmouth could be so dangerous?! Apparently, only if one were best-friends with Harry. Faith purposely had to ignore the witch when they arrived at the house earlier. She knew it was rude, but it was like her body **knew** Hermione was in the vicinity, before her brain made that connection.

From the knowing look thrown at her from Willow, she knew her equally brilliant friend could tell something was up. _Probably her lesbian radar_ , Faith mentally snorted. Getting up from the bed, she threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt, grabbed her wand, tucked in her favorite knife, and left her room. Prowling the now-silent home, Faith could tell that Aunt Andy, Helena, and Molly Weasley had already started making improvements – much to Kreacher’s dismay, which she’d heard about in great detail from the grouchy elf. The walls had been given a fresh coat of paint, eggshell or some shit, those creepy-ass house-elf heads had been removed from the walls coming up the stairs, and the seemingly never ending war with the thick coat of dust had been commenced.

Aunt Andy had also started collecting any and all Black Dark Arts artifacts and placing them somewhere safer. Willow had pleaded with them to leave any books, claiming Giles would know what to do with them. But Faith planned on keeping an eye on her friend just in case. Mostly because Willow **loved** books and learning something new, Faith figured she didn’t need the temptation. However, it didn’t hurt to have her look over a few of them, because they were going into war, and knowing what kind of weapons the other side was using would be useful. Which is why Faith, Andy, and Helena planned to learn with her: kind of like a book-club for the Dark Arts.

Heading to the kitchen, she was startled when she saw a red-haired male reaching up from a shelf. But nothing prepared her for when he turned around, his mouth stained with chocolate, and cheeks bulging probably with more of the same stuff.

Laughing, she asked “Dude, did you get **any** in your mouth?!”

“Oi-wrory,” he mumbled.

Handing over a towel for him to wipe his face, “It’s cool.” Once he finished cleaning up some, she held out her hand in greeting. “The name’s Faith. I think we sorta already met.”  
  
Ron’s face flushed red like a tomato, tried to come to grips with this gorgeous woman standing before him.  He became even more flustered as he stared wide-eyed at her hand, before shaking his head as if to clear it, and gripped hers for a shake. “Ah… Ron, Ron Weasley.” Then he finally processed what she’d said. “Oh, yeah, that was you! Gotta tell ya that was brilliant! The way you did that sword thing, and then that great big black lion thing. Wicked!”

Finally, he frowned as another thought occurred to him. “Wait, wh-what are you doing here?”  
  
Sighing, Faith rolled her eyes. “Let’s just say, I’m a long lost relative and you’ll get more details in the morn. Cool?”

Using her wand, she spelled a glass and a bottle of firewhisky, along with some cookies Mrs. Weasley had made earlier, and then turned on her heel to leave the kitchen. “Get some rest, kid.” She paused, staring back at him. “You did good back there.” She smiled as she watched Ron blushed while puffing up his chest.

Moseying her way down a couple hallways, she then opened another door that led to a set of steps going up. Faith climbed up the stairs, until she came to another large room emitting the smell of animal. It was probably all the feathers lying about, along with the lingering scent of dead ferrets. Using her wand once again, she moved a comfy, old chair over near where Buckbeak was curled up on the balcony. Settling herself in, she gave another wave of her wand, and a few moments later, a blanket flew towards her.

Leaning over, Faith cautiously petted Buckbeak’s great head as he gave a little whine. He knew his Master Sirius had died and was mourning. Figuring it was the least she could do for possibly disturbing him, Faith magically called over a pair of dead ferrets to her hand. Grimacing with disgust, she threw them at Buckbeak, watching with some dismay as he grabbed them with little enthusiasm. The first he chewed and gulped, the second he listlessly shoved to the side, before laying his great big head back down on his front paws, near Faith’s feet.  
  
Sighing sadly, Faith poured herself a glass of firewhisky as he looked at the night sky. “I know buddy. I miss him too.” As if he understood her, Buckbeak gave a gentle nudge against her foot, accompanied by a purring-whine.

Almost finishing the bottle, Faith was finally feeling somewhat numb, and all the worry and anxiety had been muffled as she finally rested with a sort of deadened-contentment, when she heard a sound of someone coming up the stairs. But it was the scent that sort jarred her from her daze; honey, citrus, and something spicy. Even Buckbeak lifted his head alertly, ready to defend her if necessary – after all Faith was now a part of his Pack, even if she smelled like a predator. Faith meanwhile initially started to resent her quiet being disturbed until that scent wafted across her nose and then she saw **who** it was. The person who she’d been trying to quiet in her mind from. It sounds like a strange thing to say, but out of everything she had to worry about, or people she had to either mourn or worry over, underneath there was a fundamental shift inside her that had been slowly settling itself.

And that _shift_ had just wandered into the room, only to stop, locking eyes with Faith. “Hermione.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N DO NOT READ AT WORK!!!

**Ribbons in the Sky**

 

When Hermione first locked eyes on Faith, she remembered thinking she didn’t have the time to receive that small shock to her system. It wasn’t physically noticeable – after all she’d been busy fighting for her life. But it was weird because it seemed so disjointed; like a stark brilliant color that suddenly popped up among a group of pastels. Of course she never had the time to really process, her body and mind was on automatic; flight or fight, survival mode. Then she saw Faith’s Animagus form and Hermione had a moment to sparingly think how magnificent her Beast was/is.

Approximately the same height as Hermione; fearless, fluid, and ferocious – the three Fs that suited her name; Faith, along with those unusual bi-colored eyes, the Gryffindor finally acknowledged that she was very drawn to Faith. Hermione was never the sort to play games with herself and she wasn’t about to start now. That didn’t make it any easier to process. She knew that everyone thought she and Ron would get together, including Ron. But Hermione had never been sure and she resented the fact that everyone took that outcome for granted, after all, Ron always does. 

That fact was that Hermione’s uncertainty with her sexuality began before Faith made an appearance into her life. Questions began to manifest themselves around the time she dated Viktor Krum. Viktor should have been the ideal boyfriend; he was marginally intelligent, a strong wizard, a half-way decent kisser, and courteous. None of that mattered because when he pressed his lips to hers. It was all she could do to not jerk away while wiping her mouth. She’d begun hating the feel of his large callused hands on her skin, the way his beard scratched against her lips and chin.

Even odder, was the way she often had to curb the instinct to shake herself from his grasp, fighting the need to fight against submitting– even if that wasn’t Viktor’s goal. The worst moment had been the thoroughly stupid idea to have sex with him. Even though he was gentle, the moment he broke through her hymen, something deep inside clenched down, hard in protest that it became uncomfortable enough that her magic involuntarily unceremoniously called a stop to things. She’d watched in horror as Viktor’s body was jerked back by some invisible hand. It was thoroughly humiliating. Naturally, Hermione couldn’t leave fast enough. This gave way to further introspection regarding her new powerful magic.

She’d begun to be aware that her magic unlike ever before. Her new, powerful Guardian magic didn’t _like_ Viktor. Akin to the sensation of sandpaper rubbing against her psychic barriers, so by the time he’d leave her following a date, Hermione would feel tense, exhausted, and almost sore; this was felt even tenfold following that disastrous evening. After explaining these sensations to both Helga and Merlin with some consternation – she hated the way her cheeks had grown hot with embarrassment; they both came to the same initial conclusion as her.

What both Merlin and Helga had held back from her though, was that the minute she’d accepted the Guardian bond, the magic began to change Hermione in fundamental ways that also had to do with Mating Bonds. As part of continuing the Guardian line, ensuring that it never died out, and that the Guardian selected a worthy Mate, the Mating process had already began; searching, assessing, dismissing possible candidates until It found the one who would be a match.

Clearly, Viktor Krum had been assessed and summarily dismissed; so the magic was simply waiting for Hermione to acknowledge this involuntary decision. Hence the reason her magic began swelling from within at the sight of Faith, now – as it did initially, but now much more brilliant. This was made stronger by her flourishing Animagus magic that she had started learning before events at DoM. Hermione found her feet stuck to the ground as she took in the older witch, the moonlight casting a glow around her.

Faith held up a glass. “Wanna a drink?”

Hermione watched as Faith, without removing her eyes from Hermione’s, slowly brought said glass to her full, wet lips, almost hypnotizing the Gryffindor, and took sip. Still watching wide-eyed, the chestnut-haired witch watched as Faith sensually ran her tongue along her lower-lip, licking up extra moisture. Hermione found her insides clenching in delicious tension, heat settled and spread throughout her lower regions as she watched the dark-haired witch. An almost somnolent heat began to course through her veins; Hermione found herself walking towards Faith until she stood only a few inches from her. Without answering or breaking eye-contact, Hermione smoothly knelt down at eye-level, bringing her hand up and boldly gripped her fingers around Faith’s hand and the glass, and then guided it up to her own lips.

She found herself reveling in the look of surprise, immediately followed by those unusual irises darkening, particularly when Hermione’s hand encased hers. The magic seemingly jumped between them. Faith couldn’t tear her eyes away even if she wanted. The moment the younger witch walked into her hidden sanctuary, Faith found herself awakening from the stupor brought on by the alcohol and the almost meditative state she’d learned from Giles to help calm and quiet her mind. Hermione threw all those efforts away.

Clenching her jaw, her body becoming tense with the need to drag Hermione onto her lap and taste her, her eyes finally broke from the younger woman’s to drop to Hermione’s full lips. Hoarsely, Faith tried to start up a conversation before she gave into her instincts, particularly her Slayer and Beast instincts to conquer and take Hermione.

“Shouldn’t you be sleepin’?”

Ignoring the burn going down her throat from the firewhisky, along with the increasing dampening of her panties, Hermione settled herself more comfortably before answering. “I could ask you the same thing. Faith, is it?”  
  
Faith busied herself with pouring the last of the firewhisky. “Yeah. Hermione Granger, you’re Harry’s BFF?”

Frowning, Hermione tried to remember where she’d heard that acronym, she simply nodded. Her eyes fluttered shut as her enhanced senses took in Faith’s remarkable scent: cinnamon and sandalwood, with an undertone of earthiness. It was all she could do to not give into the instinct to close the distance between them and map out that wonderfully tan skin to find where those scents leaked stronger. And then there was another scent, similar to Hermione’s; heat, salty-sweet, and tangy, making her mouth water, and her magic to become restless.

But Hermione wasn’t alone; Faith was having a difficult time. Her Slayer was at best, a feral creature, taking a strong-willed vessel to control its more base instincts. Throw in some of her left-over characteristics of her Animagus, her Beast, the Black Lion, and suddenly things became a lot more intense. Almost growling, the lust curling strongly within her, tweaked the horny part of her H & Hs, especially when she started smelling Hermione’s arousal seeping through the air. Faith’s fingers clenched so hard around the glass that it started to crack. Clearing her throat as she tried to gain some equilibrium in hopes of soothing her lust, she internally cursed herself for drinking too much. Luckily her Slayer, along with her Beast made the effects of the alcohol fairly minimal.

Of course the disadvantage was that it made her more instinctive; more act now, think later. This line of thinking was made more intense when Hermione slowly leaned over to teasingly brush her lips against Faith’s, which set off a chain reaction that sent Buckbeak squawking, and shifting further away from them. Faith suddenly reached over to grip the back of Hermione’s shirt, lifted, and dragged her onto her lap. She then proceeded to sift her fingers through the hair at the base of her neck and jerked Hermione’s head forward to crush her lips against.

Shifting to straddle the older woman’s legs, Hermione curled her arms around Faith’s neck as she whimpered into the Slayer-Witch’s mouth. Nipping her bottom lip before suckling on it to allow her tongue to gently, but firmly, prod the seam of Hermione’s lips. Faith growled as access was granted allowing her to plunder and conquer the younger woman’s mouth. Twining her tongue around Hermione’s before suckling on the muscle, caused Hermione to give an involuntary jerk of her hips. Turning this way and that, as both women tried to gain dominance, at least until air became an issue. Faith momentarily lifted her lips while her calloused hands slowly stroked down Hermione’s back to firmly grip and fondle Hermione’s bottom, even as she moved her lips to plant kisses along the Gryffindor’s jawline.

Wantonly tipping her head back gave Faith more access to her skin and erogenous zones she wasn’t aware she had, Hermione allowed herself to become momentarily distracted by the thick lushness of Faith’s hair. She delighted as her fingers sifted through the dark strands. It also allowed her to direct Faith to her very sensitive neck and shoulders; the Slayer-Witch’s tongue swirling and lapping it way to Hermione’s swan-line neck. However Hermione could only hiss and gasp when Faith’s full, swollen lips worked their way down her neck to settle on her pulse-point. Nibbling and suckling until the sensitive area was clearly marked, drenched her panties, and her nipples to become erect and achy. Hermione’s slit and her breasts felt full and heavy as they became engorged with blood and arousal. With her enhanced senses, it gave Hermione a visceral sense of satisfaction to know that she affecting this powerful witch; that **she** was causing her arousal, that **she** was eliciting these reactions from this powerful woman. 

She could feel her Guardian magic gurgling in excitement. Almost similar to when she faced off with those Death Eaters at the Ministry, but… not. It was gurgling with… hunger, a hunger that was directed at the woman currently lapping and suckling along her shoulders. When she returned to her now bruised and sweetly sore pulse-point, Hermione gasped, “Merlin… what are you doing to me?!”

Her hips jerked every time Faith suckled on her pulse-point or another sensitive area, it was if there was line directly feeding sweet pressure from Faith’s lips to her swollen cunt. It was a rhetorical question of course. However at the feel of sharp incisors gently biting into the marked spot, Hermione jerked Faith’s head up to stare into now heavy-lidded bi-colored irises. Dropping her eyes to Faith’s delectable mouth, the swollen pouty lips parted to give way to sharpened incisors. Lifting accusing eyes to Faith, only to see her slightly smirking, complete with dimples, leant to her overall sexy and tousled look. “Sorry love. But you’re tweekin’ my Beast.” She answered huskily.

Faith dropped her eyes from Hermione’s to rove them over Hermione’s tousled look, her slightly wavy and thick locks strewn around her shoulders and head. Eyes now bordered more on golden, the flecks of brown becoming fewer. But there were also flecks of orange and red, making them appear as if a growing fire had erupted in them. Faith’s own magic, particularly her Beast was clamoring, had felt a pull to Hermione from the moment they met, a pull that was almost impossible to ignore at the moment. It wanted Faith to Mate with Hermione; the Partial-Shift of her teeth was a manifestation of that desire.

The tingling in her eyes indicated to her that they were likely Shifting as well; both became a glowing blood-red. Faith had to concentrate to prevent further Shifting so that she didn’t accidentally hurt her witch. She didn’t plan on having to be uber-careful when she fucked Hermione with her fingers because they’d Shifted into claws. Her magic was also reacting to Hermione’s magic; a magic that was as unique as either she or Red’s. It had a flavor to it, one that was immediately evaluated and found suitable. It also made Faith feel more untamed; like ripping off-their-clothes-to-have-wild-sex feral. The kind of feral that made Faith feel as if she truly let go the way _It_ was telling her to, then she wouldn’t be able to stop until it was over.

Suddenly Faith stood up, causing Hermione to let out a yelp, as her palms cupped her bottom to hoist her up. Hermione involuntarily wrapped her legs around the older woman’s waist, her hands clenched into Faith’s shoulder to hold on. Buckbeak squawked again as Faith strode by him, leaving him on the balcony. Her wand was suddenly in her hand, as she closed the balcony doors, while she gave another flick of her wand to another chair, Transfiguring it into a bed.

Gently tossing Hermione onto the bed, Faith began shedding her clothes to Hermione’s wide-eyed, awed gaze. The Guardian witch was reeling; made more so by the stunning body of her soon-to-be lover. Pouty, swollen lips that most witches would kill for, a cleft chin, along with a dimpled smile, thick lashes and deep-set now Shifted crimson-colored eyes, lent to a bad-girl-otherworldliness, yet overall sex appeal. Tousled lustrous blue-black hair strewn along sleekly muscled and defined shoulders and arms, battle scars dotting the tanned skin, along with an intricate tattoo sweeping down one shoulder onto the slope of her breast. Full, heaving breasts, capped by large dark-pink nipples that now stood erect, made Hermione’s mouth water.

Her well-defined abdomen rivaled even Viktor’s. At that name her magic flared up, as if irritated that she’d dare to utter someone else’s name other than Faith’s during the mating process. Her eyes fell closed to wrestle her magic under control (and her lust): message received. When hot, calloused hands swooped down to pull her t-shirt up and off, only to reach down again, caressing her shoulders, down further until they gently cupped Hermione’s breasts, her thumbs gently began circling her areolas, caused the younger witch’s eyes to fly open. Once again taking in Faith, down to her long, shapely legs that only seemed to emphasize the power oozing from her frame, and her eyes finally traveled down to that place that her potent sense of smell kept inhaling. Faith was completely hairless, glistening with wetness; her large clit stood out engorged, and begging for attention.

Panting as if she’d been running sprints or dueling, Hermione could only watch as after strumming her erect nipples, Faith slowly slid her hotter-than-hot palms slowly from her breast down to her tightened abdomen, until they came to rest almost cupping her mons. Faith’s thumbs teasingly edged her nest of curls, continuing down to graze along her swollen labial lips, onto the tops of her thighs, coming to the edge of her shorts down the shorts she’d worn to bed. Pushing up them up, revealing Hermione’s supple thighs, elicited a whimper from her. Goosebumps erupted all over Hermione’s skin, tightening it, while her hips rolled in restless anticipation.

Faith knelt on the bed in between Hermione’s thighs, seemingly towering over her. “Damn, you are fuckin’ beautiful.” Faith hoarsely stated.

Leaning down even closer, until her body barely touched Hermione’s, she left one hand to firmly hold onto the side of her hip, while she brought her other hand back up to slide into Hermione’s hand, their fingers entwining. Finally, allowing her body to settle on top of her witch, her head snuggled into the crook of Hermione’s neck, a sensual moan echoed out at the sensation of feeling her body pressed into Hermione’s.

“Tell me. You gotta tell me that you want this.” Faith rasped. Nuzzling her lips along her collarbone, inhaling her scent, trying to gather herself and her magic, Faith knew she only had so long until the choice for both of them was out of her hands. “You smell so fuckin’ good! I can’t wait to taste you, rub my scent all over you, fuck you, put my fingers an’ tongue inside you. I can’t wait to drink you right up. So you know.”

“Oh god!” Hermione whimpered. Faith’s words were almost more than she could bear.

But Faith continued. “So you know who you belong to. Mine!” her Beast growled.

Hermione may have a powerful and ancient magic, along with what she suspected was a rare and powerful Animagus, but the growing connection to her Beast was still relatively new, practically a youngling, and for that reason It had given way to the more centered Black Lion Animagus. And the Slayer. Because It knew that they would protect and care for Its Mistress, and that they were more than strong enough to do so. It also found Mistress’ mate appealing and worthy, her scent and magic called to It.

It was for these reasons and many more, that Hermione reached up behind Faith’s neck, pulling her head down to once again, to meet her own swollen lips, their tongues battling, while her legs wrapped themselves around Faith’s thighs. She used one hand to reach over for Faith’s wand that had fallen on the bed, ignoring a sensation like cool fire racing up her arm from using the unfamiliar wand, she casted spell causing the rest of her clothes to disappear, leaving her naked.

“Is that answer enough for you?!” she huskily responded.

Both witches gasped as their naked bodies entwined. Their hips gently grinded against each other in an attempt to alleviate the growing ache between their thighs. Hermione’s soft curls grew wetter as Faith’s hairless mound pressed and gently circled against her cunt. Her own clit throbbed and hummed, as her juices trickled from her swollen slit. While Hermione was no longer a virgin after her one uninspiring, but moment with Viktor, she knew that this experience would pale in comparison. That first experience had been enough to convince her (as well as her magic) to not settle next time. Her parents had always encouraged, to Hermione’s mortification, to have a healthy, empowering (as her mum might say) sex-life.

So it was with this sense of empowerment that Hermione allowed her hand to smooth down Faith’s back until she arrived at her soon-to-be-lover’s very impressively shapely bottom, and squeeze. Her fingers moved even further down, encountering slick juices and heat. Faith gave a violent thrust, Hermione moved her fingers even deeper, encountering engorged flesh. At that moment her nipple was sucked into a hot mouth, Faith tongue swirling around its rigid tip. And their hips moved less gently, almost violently, while Hermione’s skin started to Shift from flushed to fever-red to an almost unnatural brilliant red. Her emerging Animagus magic flared up caressing her flesh, heightening the sensations, and then began to sweep up Faith’s legs to the rest of her body.

Faith caught the tip of her nipple in between her gleaming white teeth, pulling up, deliciously stretching the flesh. So caught up in her need to have Hermione, she barely registered when her skin started to feel… even more sensitized, bordering on a gentle, yet stinging pain. It only added to her arousal. Their bodies gleamed in the moonlight, their hair grew lank with sweat, as their bodies twined, shifted, and undulated. Even though Hermione had never made love to a woman, it was if her body was on autopilot, the hunger and magic building towards a crescendo, towards Faith.

Faith’s mouth continued its journey down her stomach, swirling her tongue in her navel while Hermione’s other hand moved from Faith’s shoulder into her hair. Her other hand was displaced from Faith’s wet heat, leaving her dampened fingers to smear their way up along Faith’s back . When Faith came to Hermione’s wet curls, she deeply inhaled, her nose nuzzling into the slightly coarser hair. Meanwhile Hermione, grown curious, brought those fingers near her lips, the scent wafting to her nose before she took a more direct approach and sniffed the essence that was all-Faith. She then gave a tentative lick. The taste exploded on her tongue: mildly spicy, with a briney-sweet tang on the back-end.

So while Faith was moving her hands to enfold Hermione’s hips until she settled her upper-body between the younger woman’s legs, Hermione was hungrily lapping up the juices on her fingers. But the younger witch became distracted by Faith’s next move. Faith knew she had to be careful with her mouth because her body, her magic, refused to allow her to Shift completely back; her teeth still sported slightly long fangs and from the continued tingling sensation echoing down from her eyes, she’d guess that both eyes were now a deep-purplish-red.

But Faith had better things to focus on. Looking at the gorgeous bit of womanhood; deeply flushed red, labial lips slightly protruding and full, a trickle of wetness leaking from her slit, lent additional evidence to Hermione’s arousal, and made Faith’s mouth water. Her clit stood erect, almost quivering in its need, and slightly peaking out its protective hood. Lifting her eyes up to Hermione’s, her lust flared as she watched the younger woman licking her own fingers even as she stared at Faith. She noted the swirling colors of fire and heat in Hermione’s eyes. They matched the shifting unusual skin-tone; an alarming, but beautiful red. Why she wasn’t startled or worried, Faith didn’t know. It was clear that Hermione had more magic juice then she’d let on.

Heaving breasts, with redder-than-normal nipples, Hermione’s hand in Faith’s hair tightened and pressed her head down, obviously growing impatient. Faith simply grinned, her lips barely grazing Hermione’s swollen wet folds. “Impatient. I like that. You ready?”

It was rhetorical of course because Hermione’s body was speaking for her. Thrusting and rolling her hips, almost smearing her juices along Faith’s mouth. “Please!”

Faith’s hand moved, two fingers gently peeled Hermione open even more. Lewdly spread open, Faith dipped her head down, taking a single lap along her folds. Moaning, Hermione’s eyes clenched shut, particularly when she felt Faith’s tongue dipping into her grasping hole, its tip gently tracing the entrance, before humming and savoring the wetness. Moaning at the earthy-tangy taste, Faith plunged her tongue in even further, probing and massaging Hermione’s honey-walls. Hermione couldn’t believe the sensations tearing through her, nor the sounds emanating from her mouth.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop!”

Thrusting in even deeper, when her tongue found a slightly rough patch of tissue, Faith proceeded to prod, swirl, and tickle the area, reveling in the almost-screams coming from Hermione. Her cunt squeezed down, almost trapping her tongue, but Faith didn’t want her to come just yet. Counter-corkscrewing her tongue until the muscle left the grasping channel, ignoring Hermione’s pleas to continue, Faith lapped her way up until it met the engorged muscle of Hermione’s clit. Gently tickling its tip, then swirling around it, before cradling it as her hot mouth sucked in the entire quivering bit of tissue and muscle, sucking deeply, Faith started to lash its tip. Head thrashing, body heaving, nails digging into Faith’s shoulder, neither witch noticed as their magic encased their bodies; a mixture of red, green, yellow, blue ether radiance until it formed Its own protective bubble.

Inside, around their bodies, It rippled and swirled. The clash of colors twisted faster and faster in correspondence to Hermione’s orgasm, which was reached when Faith suddenly removed her mouth from the spasming clit to once again plunge her tongue into the gushing cunt. The moment her tongue touched the unique spot inside Hermione and her hand moved to allow her fingers pluck and squeeze Hermione’s clit, violent contractions began to erupt from deep inside Hermione, squeezing down on her tongue, gushing her juices into Faith’s mouth, her body tense, almost curling in on herself before the younger woman almost lifted both witches off the bed.

Screaming, the orgasm felt like it exploded from deep inside, her magic magnifying the sensations until she became almost insensate. Even though she was still coming, one orgasm crashing into another, Faith replaced her mouth with her fingers, shoving two, then three inside while she quickly and smoothly shifted her body up. One thigh fell in between Hermione’s, helping to push her fingers deep inside her witch. She curled her other hand around Hermione’s shoulders as she brought her mouth from the brief stop at her breasts, firmly sucking and lashing her nipple. Needing relief, Faith rolled her hips against Hermione’s mons and the back of her hand, as she moved her mouth up, glistening with the younger witch’s juices, to swallow Hermione’s cries.

Moaning into Hermione’s mouth, sharing her own taste, Faith though about using her own hand to flick and rub her clit. Lifting her mouth, Faith took in the sensual visual of her Mate. She mentally paused at that word; Faith had been reputed as the want-take-have kind of girl, but the thought of never having this witch again, of allowing her to be with anyone else suddenly became intolerable. Growling, Faith’s eyes fell onto the bruising along her neck at her pulse-point; **_her_** Mark. The combined smells of their scents, particularly all over Hermione’s skin also seemed to satisfy something deep and feral inside Faith. 

With her fingers still embedded inside her witch, her fingers still being rhythmically squeezed, Faith enjoyed the way Hermione’s body shivered and shuddered as the after-shocks continued to work their way through her. She lifted her eyes to Hermione’s heavy-lidded ones, locking their gazes as the Gryffindor’s body finally settled. Panting, her chest heaving along with Faith’s, Hermione could finally feel like she barely recognized her own. The sweetly terrible sensations were unlike anything she’d ever experienced and something told her she’d be unable to achieve this experience with anyone except Faith.

Even though she wanted to examine that thought further, she, or her body started to answer to the unrequited want in Faith’s eyes. Bringing her leg up and around Faith’s thigh, while her arms wrapped themselves around the older woman’s shoulders, Hermione heaved her body until Faith was underneath her.

Momentarily startled, Faith then gave a dimpled grin as she lifted one well-manicured eyebrow. “Well? If I gotta started beggin’, don’t think I ain’t gonna return the favor.”

Charmed, even though impossibly, Hermione’s body responded to the simmering lust emanating from her lover, she found herself grinning in return. Dipping her head down, she brushed her lips against Faith’s, even as she’s briefly worried at her ability to please Faith. As if she were reading her mind, Faith’s startling red eyes softened. She reached up to gently brush Hermione’s hair behind her ear. “I have the utmost faith in you. Now please fuck me before I take matter into my own hands.”  
  
Indignantly surprised, yet slightly amused at Faith’s coarseness, Hermione narrowed her gaze before nipping Faith on her bottom lip. “Naughty.”

Propping herself on Faith’s waist, Hermione brushed one hand down Faith’s sternum, down along the slope of Faith’s chest until she gently cupped a heavy breast. Almost mesmerized, Hermione watched as her own hand fondled and caressed the tissue and muscle, her thumb circling the rigid nipple. She shifted all the way back until she rested her bottom on her lower-calves, in between Faith’s thighs, allowed her to use both hands to manipulate the heaving breasts. Almost pushing them into Hermione’s hands, Faith reveled in the inexperienced, yet firm handling of her sensitive tissue, particularly her nipples. Hermione had moved onto rolling, plucking, tugging on the responsive tips.

Hissing in pleasure, Faith urged, “Harder.”  
  
Eyes widening, Hermione complied; stretching, pinching, and pulling on the reddening nipples.  But she too reveled in Faith’s responsiveness, causing her recently-satiated lust to flare up.

“Fuck yeah. That’s it!”

Straightening her body until she was now lying in between Faith’s thighs, it smeared Faith’s fluids along her stomach, ratcheting up Hermione’s lust even further. With her fingers still worrying the swollen tips, Hermione leaned down to slowly lap her tongue along the grooves of Faith’s impressive muscled stomach. She allowed the taste of Faith’s skin and sweat to coat her tongue, enjoying her unique taste. Underlying her earthy salt and cinnamon taste was another flavor; it tasted of magic, of Faith’s magic. Hermione didn’t know how she knew that, but it was a distinctive flavor, as distinctive as the one that’s been tantalizing her for the past hour from between Faith’s legs.

This flavor-scent became more pronounced when Faith had partially-Shifted, and now it was even more intense. She had felt her own magic sparkle in response. Lightly trailing her tongue until she came to Faith’s bald pussy, she traced delicate designs along Faith’s mons, ignoring the impatient and undulating body underneath. Faith reached down to brush her hair from one side of her face to wrap around her fist. Flickering her eyes up, falling into Faith’s eyes, Hermione finally released the slightly-hot and sensitive nipples; she suddenly felt a case of nerves as got closer to the center of Faith’s quivering need.

Breaking her gaze, she allowed her eyes to rove over the tension-filled frame; appreciative eyes took in the muscles now standing out in relief as the tension built, enhancing her overall attractiveness. She looked like some kind of warrioress and it called to that instinctual, deep need inside Hermione. She realized that as much as she wanted more of Faith’s surprisingly briney-sweetness, she wanted that body pressed against hers when Faith reached her peak.

Once again, it seemed as though Faith read her mind, when her other hand reached down and dragged her body up. When Hermione was situated accordingly, Faith shifted until one of Hermione’s legs rested alongside of Faith’s, she then reached down brushed her fingers through Hermione’s wet curls and along her own naked cunt, she first plied open her own swollen lips before once again plying open Hermione’s saturated ones, lewdly splaying both of them open.  
  
“Hold still for one sec.” Faith ordered and Hermione found herself stilling.

Faith quickly removed her hand from between them to reach around and cup Hermione’s bottom before tugging her hips against Faith’s. Immediately the sensation of the clits and labial lips pressed together set off a chain reaction.  
  
“Oh god!” Her almost too-sensitive tissues exploded with sensation.

“Move! Don’t fight it.” Faith hoarsely ordered.

And with that, Hermione began rolling, thrusting, and grinding her cunt against Faith’s. Their mouths crushed against each other, their tongues battling and mimicking their hips. Fingers dug into Hermione’s bottom as the younger witch clutched at the blankets underneath Faith. Magic became music; sparking and twirling and interweaving, creating a symphony. Open mouths, deepening kisses, until they needed air only to move onto available skin. Moans, growls, and cries echoed around the room. Luckily their magical bubble provided the necessary sound barrier from snooping house-guests, and an indignant Buckbeak who felt that the humans could have found a better place to mate.

The tension built, made more brilliant by their magic; after this their magic would only be recognized and accepted by each other. As their throbbing clits slid and mashed against each other, enhancing the delicious contrast of needing to be filled. As their bodies tensed, the magic whipped around them, until like a bubbling cauldron, yelling, Faith found release. Hermione quickly followed, who could only give a loud, long moan. Their magic exploded. Like a clap of thunder their combined magical signatures ricocheted around and above them before finally dipping back into their bodies; leaving traces of Hermione’s magical signature in Faith, and vice versa. Vision dimming as the orgasm thrummed hard through her, she could only marvel at the sight of her witch, her hair looking like some kind of wild fire, her skin the color of red wine and blood, giving her, her own otherworldly attractiveness.

As she started to lose consciousness, Faith wondered why she didn’t burn, but could only reason that it was because Hermione was **hers**. 


	31. Chapter 31

 

**The Day After Tomorrow**

 

_The Following Morning..._

It was the smell that woke her first. Instead of citrus and fire, it was gamey and unpleasant. Fluttering her eyes open, Faith quickly shut her eyes at the sight of Buckbeak perched at the side of the bed. With her eyes still closed, Faith realized that she was naked, and that she was a tad bit sore. Suddenly her eyes flew open as the memories quickly washed over her. Hurriedly reaching out with her hand, she realized that she was alone and covered with a blanket. She refused to acknowledge the disappointment, or the slight hurt from Hermione dipping out. After all, no one wanted to be woken by a Hippogriff. Realizing that it was light outside, Faith realized she probably needed to get up because chances are those Weaselys would be up and about. Not to mention, it wouldn’t be long before Willow or Andy came looking for her.

She ignored who she really wanted to see.

 

**

 

Hermione laid her head back against the side of the tub, happy to have beaten Ginny to the bathroom. Her body was still humming from what happened last night. Frankly she couldn’t believe it **had** happened; but her body was not letting her forget it. She ached in places she didn’t even know she had. But it was a delicious ache; one that would allow her to secretly revel in what took place with Faith.

However, what dismayed her was that she… wanted Faith, again. That wasn’t her! She was level-headed, think-first, Hermione Granger! It was Harry or Ron who- acted-first-think-later (or in Ron’s case, much later)!  Rubbing her hand along her brow, Hermione wondered if she would seem… different, because she certainly _felt_ different. Granted she was still dealing with her newly-discovered Animagus Beast and her Guardian magic, the fact that her magic… responded to Faith was disconcerting. It was almost as if from the moment they’d unceremoniously met at the DoM, she’d been physically and magically drawn to her. So much so apparently, that from the moment she stepped foot in that room, she’d been unable to stop the chain of events that brought her to this moment.

Suddenly she heard Ginny shout from the other room that breakfast was ready and to hurry up. Sighing, Hermione finished her bath, almost hissing in pleasure-pain at the bruising along her pulse-point.

“Shit!” Hurrying towards the mirror, she picked up her wand to glamour the hickey-bite away, while inspecting for any additional marks that couldn’t be hidden by clothes.

After using a quick-dry spell for her hair, she used a Veela potion given to her by Fleur, for her hair to fall into some semblance of orderly curls. Already dressed in jeans and bra, Hermione decided to finish dressing in the bathroom in order to avoid questions from Ginny. Although she supposed she could explain them away from their recent battle with Death Eaters. Shaking her head, she finally finished and headed into the bedroom only to see Ginny reading an edition of **_Seeker Weekly._**

“Finally! I’m starving! I was starting to wonder if you’d drowned.” She smirked to soften the teasing.

“Sorry. I was enjoying the soak. My muscles have been sore ever since that Ministry mess.”

Waving off Hermione’s apology, they headed towards the kitchen, where they could already hear people’s voices, and the clank of silverware and dishes. Mostly everyone was already in attendance. Both Andy and Molly looked up first at the two witches. “Well don’t just stand there, grab yourselves a seat before Ron finishes it all.”

Hermione noticed the husky chuckle among all the teasing laugher and indignant squawks from Ron’s stuffed face, but chose to ignore the slight ripple of sensation caressing her magic, as well as the woman who made the noise. “Good morning everyone. Harry, Ron. Hello Molly and Mrs. Tonks.”

“Please call me Andromeda, Hermione.” Andy insisted.

Flickering her eyes at Faith, who was busy engaging Fleur, Hermione ignored a zing of sensation at the sight, and found a seat next to Harry who gave her a welcoming, yet weary smile. “How are you Harry?”

“I’m… ok.” he shifted his eyes to Faith and Willow, before returning his attention to Hermione. “I couldn’t sleep. But what else is new.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

Giving a wan smile, Hermione responded. “I didn’t get much sleep as well. But I think after a few days of rest, I’ll be fine.”

Ron decided to join in on the conversation, his mouth stuff full with food to Hermione’s perpetual disgust. “Oi, ‘ermione, are you g’wanna vis’t ‘ur parents?”

After swallowing down some pumpkin-juice, Hermione rolled her eyes in irritation. “Gross Ron! How many times have I told you to not talk with your mouth full?!” After lightly shoving him with her shoulder to Harry’s amusement, she answered, “And yes. I’m leaving on Wednesday. We’re going on holiday to Spain.”

Harry chuckled at his friends’ antics, enjoying the normalcy for a few moments, before noticing the empty chair at the head of the table; the chair Sirius used to sit in. Head down as his eyes watered, Harry suddenly lost his appetite. Pushing around his food, he shifted his attention to the woman who seemed so familiar with Sirius’ home, as well as her red-headed friend. He hated not being given vital information as much as he hated being the last to know things that impacted him. Anger began pulsing along his veins, pushing out the simmering grief that had been hanging over him for the last few days.

Dropping his utensils on his plate, he narrowed his gaze on Faith. “So are you going to tell me who you are, what you’re doing here, and how you know Sirius?!” Harry loudly demanded.

Ignoring Hermione’s gasp, he waited as the woman slowly lowered her fork, her unusual eyes pinning him to his chair. “All right H. You wanna have this convo here or in the study?”

“It seems to me you’re stalling or perhaps hiding something.” Harry accused. “And my name is Harry!”

“Now Harry--” Molly squawked nervously. The kitchen had quickly grown silent to watch the exchange between Harry and Faith.

Rolling her eyes, Faith gave a dimpled grin. “Relax H.” She enjoyed his increasing irritation at his new nickname before she continued. “No need to get your panties in a twist. But to answer your first question: I’m Sirius’ long-lost niece. My father was Regulus.”

At that, Harry’s anger and disbelief grew. Quickly standing, his chair flying back as he shook off Hermione’s attempt to calm him, his hands clenched at his side. “I don’t believe you! Sirius would have told me! You’re lying!”

This time it was Andromeda Tonks who interrupted, standing at the other head of the table. “Harry Potter. Sit down! I will not allow you to accuse my niece of being deceitful! Sirius and Faith had their reasons for not telling you. She is family and that is enough.”

Trembling in embarrassment and simmering anger, Harry almost disobeyed Andromeda, and Faith could see his internal struggle playing out across his face. Her eyes softened in empathy and regret. “Harry. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. But things kinda… happened fast. One minute I’m just a Slayer, and the next I find out I’m a witch, and have family that gave a shit.”  
  
This time Faith stood up from her seat, walking towards the exit. “Come on kid. We got lots to discuss and if you’re gonna turn me into a frog, I’d rather you’d not do it in front people who are eating.” She also knew that the kid would rather get emotional without an audience.

After some reluctance, Harry hung his head. He felt Hermione’s hand on his forearm in an attempt to offer some support. Ron was simply glaring at Faith, but the effect was lost considering he had food particles clinging to his lips. Willow had also stood up, nervously wringing her hands as she watched her friend deal with the distraught younger wizard.

“Everything is cool Red, Andy. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” And with that both Harry and Faith left the room, to head to the study.

Settling into a seat, while Harry went over to the window, looking out, Faith simply sighed. After the eventful night she’d had, plus trying to pretend that her new lover wasn’t ignoring her even though her body and magic were still feeling the remnants of their hot night together, Faith knew she’d need her wits about her to get through this talk. “You know it’s ok to be pissed. Nothing about what’s happened has been cool.”

“I was like you. I grew up without people who loved me or even gave a shit about me. And even worse, I was part of a world I didn’t even know existed.” And this Harry turned around, surprised to hear the similarities in their upbringing.  
  
His curiosity overcoming him, he asked, “So what happened?

But Faith paused, giving him an indecipherable look before answering. “Do you know what a Slayer is?”  
  
Frowning, Harry tried to wrack his brain; he’d heard of that term before, but he couldn’t rightly remember where. “Andy says you get a refresher during some kind Defense Arts class or somethin’?”

Suddenly Harry remembered something. “Oh right! I think it was something under the magical creatures section. But… we were led to believe that the Slayer was a myth.”

Faith chuckled. Grunting she answered, “Not likely.” Then Faith launched into the standard, “One girl in all the world…” bit, watching as Harry’s eyes grew big. “There had always been one, but B broke the mold. I’m the last of the Chosen, or me n’ B are the last Chosen, and now there have been hundreds, maybe thousands, Called.”

Faith then stood up and walked over the huge fireplace, picking up an iron poker. She walked over to Harry, handing it over. “Here. Hold on to this, try n’ move it, sense if there’s any magical properties, test its strength and all that.”

Confused, with some hesitation Harry held the poker, magically reaching out to sense anything magical about it. Looking at Faith, who nodded encouragingly, Harry then proceeded to bend or move it. Predictably it didn’t move. Shrugging his shoulders he handed it back to Faith. “Nothing unusual about it.”  
  
Only to have his jaw drop open as Faith effortlessly twisted the poker into a pretzel-shape. “Ho--”

“Before you say I used magic, reach out with your senses to detect any spellwork, and as you can see I don’t have my wand in my hand.” He nodded his head. “The Slayer was built to fight the baddies. We’re faster, stronger, and heal quicker than humans.” She straightened the poker and replaced back at the fireplace, before returning to her seat. “My childhood sucked. What made it even worse was that I found out that it was all a lie. Good ol’ Druella, with the help of my ‘dearest’ Aunt Bellatrix’ wanted to get rid of Regulus’ whelp,” she pointed to herself, “so she bound my magic, fucked with my mom’s head, and then had me wiped from the Wizarding world’s existence.”

Faith then let out a dark chuckle. “But never let it be said that the Powers that Be weren’t thorough in fuckin’ me over. The Slayer was… managed by a group called the Watcher’s Council. A bunch of old, white, tweeded men, who thought the Slayer was a means to an end, a weapon. If they wanted you, nothing would stand in their way from getting you and using you. Even if it meant fuckin’ with your family.”

“Turns out my mom comes from a powerful American Wizarding family. But the Council wiped her memories even more, in addition to binding her magic. She started goin’ a little nuts, add some alcohol, crappy men, and ‘presto’: she gets sick… and dies.” A muscle bunched in her cheek as Faith struggled to contain emotions from the memories she’d thought she’d come to grip with. But losing Sirius stirred all that shit back up. “So I was an orphan, living in and out of group homes until I became Chosen.”

From there, Faith proceeded to tell Harry about her first Watcher Diana, how she died, and her escape to Sunnydale. “Things became fucked up, I didn’t deal well, trusted no one, allowed shit to build, I ended up killlin’ someone, and now you’re lookin’ at someone living with that mistake, someone whose tryin’ to make amends. So yeah kid, I think I got some idea about what it feels like to be kept out-in-the-cold and about loss.” She shifted forward in her seat, gesturing Harry to the chair sitting across from her. “But being the Slayer, is a bit like bein’ the ‘Boy-Who-Lived.’ You got all these expectations that you’re not sure you can live up to, major trust issues, a shit-load of anger, loneliness, your life and the few friends you do have are constantly in danger, all the while trying to save the world, well… it begins to add up.”

“So Harry, I’m here to tell you, it looks like you got some loyal friends, and now you have family. Family who actually give a fuck. Doin’ the whole prophecy on your own bit? It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be and you could just as easily end up failing or dead.” She shifted closer to him, her eyes intent and solemn. “I stumbled into Sirius’ life too late and it sounds like you did too.” She paused to swallow over the lump in her throat,while ignoring the sudden sting in her eyes, and when she looked up, it was clear Harry was just as overcome with emotion. “Since bein’ a Slayer’s life means a short-shelf life, I can only be fuckin’ stoked that I got to know my uncle at all. And he made me give a wizard-promise that if anything ever happened to him, that I was to watch over you.”

She watched as a single tear made a track down his cheek. “At the Ministry, you gave a good fight. You got balls, smarts, and good instincts. What you don’t have is experience in fighting. A war is comin’ kid, you gotta big part to play, and I’m gonna make sure you’re ready. Plus you’ll have a coupla big guns in your corner: me n’ Red.”

Faith was pretty certain that that was longest she’d ever spoken and made a mental note to never do it again. Sitting back, she laid her head back watching Harry trying to process everything. She really wanted to ask him about his best bud Hermione, but given that the kid had trust issues, she decided to try another time.

Harry removed his glasses to wipe the excess moisture in his eyes. Once he replaced them on his face, a thoughtful look came over his face. “Who is Red?”

Surprised, Faith paused, and then she started laughing. “H! Outta everything I said…”

Deep belly laughs erupted from her mouth becoming contagious that eventually even Harry joined in. It was at that point that the door to the room exploded in and in stumbled were George, Fred, Ron, and even Tonks. An amused Willow, followed by Hermione, Ginny, and Andromeda followed the snooping Weasleys into the room. Then two thunderous, heavy footsteps preceded the arrival of Faith’s Ravendor cousins, Aleki and Kisona, and her grandmother Helena.

Aleki’s mouth was stuffed with some kind of pastry. “Yo couz! That Molly can sure cook up a serious spread!”

Helena reached up and swatted him on the back of his head. “Mind your manners! Swallow before you talk.” Shaking her head in exasperation, Helena greeted Faith with a kiss before focusing on Harry, reaching out for his hand. “I’m Helena Ravendor, Faith’s grandmother. It’s very nice to meet you Harry.” Gently clasping both hands around his smaller one, Helena gentled her expression. “I’m so sorry about Sirius. His loss has been felt by many of us from across the Pond.”

After that the discussion evolved somewhat naturally in everyone sharing a Sirius story. From Faith’s mutual love of motorcycles and fast cars, as well as Sirius’ flying-cycle, to Harry and Ron regaling everyone about the events surrounding Sirius’ escape and subsequent efforts free his name. George and Fred proceeded to share an amusing story about testing out one of their infamous pranks on Sirius, and during a morning of shared stories and memories, Hermione and Faith snuck discreet looks at each other.

Much to the surprise of both Andromeda and Helena, who then shared knowing looks of their own. Willow simply smirked and then _wondered when the hell they had time to blend their auras?!_


	32. Chapter 32

**Behind Darkened Clouds**

_Back at Hogwarts_

Minerva had just taken a break from reading over some administrative paperwork. She was still recovering from the four Stunners given by Dolores. Minerva promised herself that the next time she saw that pink toad; she’d planned to return the favor. She’d just been released from St. Mungos and welcomed the Summer Break, allowing her to really recover properly. She’d just removed her reading glasses, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, when a series of pecking noises on her window startled her. Quickly looking up, she saw that it was a bird; a huge, black bird, with a message tied around its leg. Once she opened her window, it squawked at her, and imperviously lifted its leg tied with a message.

Cautiously removing the small scroll, she reached into her pocket for the treats she normally had reserved for Owls. When she presented it to the bird, it simply shook its body, violently flapped its wings, knocking the treat from her hand, before turning around, and taking off.

“Well, apparently my treats are not to up to your standards,” Minerva mockingly uttered.

Closing the window, she ventured back to her chair as she was untying the letter. Replacing her reading glasses on her nose, she began to read. By the time she finished, her eyebrows had settled themselves far up on her forehead, to go along with her rapidly beating heart. Clutching her chest, Minerva frantically tried to decide what to do. Standing up, she hurried from her room, briskly strode down a hallway until she came to Filius Flitwick’s quarters. Oh, how she wished Albus were here, but he was off doing some secretive errand.

Coming upon two large stone dragon statues, Minerva announced, “Hippogriff,” and after a few moments, the door to Filius’ quarters opened. Upon entering the large sitting room, both Pomona and Filius sat upon a love-seat, enjoying a pot of tea.

Smoothly hoping down to his feet, Filius approached her. “Welcome Minerva. Is something the matter?”

Practically wringing her hands, Minerva wondered where to start. “Filius, I fear I might have to step away this night. An urgent matter has just come to my attention.”

Frowning, Filius responded, “Is everything all right?” After all, anyone who knew her could still see the lingering affects from those Stunners.

Sighing deeply, Minerva vacillated between telling Filius or not, but decided to honor a request. “If I have not sent a correspondence before the start of breakfast, please send a message to Albus to meet me at the Council.”

Confused, Filius nodded, as Pomona chimed in. “Are you sure Minnie?”

Steeling herself, Minerva straightened her robe, and prepared to leave. “A former student, who I thought was lost, might have returned. I plan to find out if they are telling me the truth.”

Striding to the door, she was stopped by Filius’ door. “Well in finding the truth, make sure you take precautions.”

Turning towards her friends, Minerva smiled. “Of course. I am a McGonagall after all.”

 

***

 

Once Minerva returned to her rooms, she sent a message to Andromeda, put on her cloak, and then grabbed some floo powder as she approached her fireplace. “Diagon Alley.”

Stepping out onto the busier street of Diagon Alley, Minerva brushed the soot from her robes, and proceeded to Knockturn Alley. Mentally rolling her eyes, Minerva grouchily thought that _she_ could have picked a less predictable place. Deciding to be inconspicuous, Minerva stepped off to a side alley and transformed into her Animagus form, a cat. Once completed, she sprinted down Knockturn Alley, approached **Borgin and Burkes**. At the moment the door was closed, until eventually two wizards entered. Following behind them, she sprinted through their legs, and hid under a table unto she spotted the item.

Luckily the object was slightly open, so while the two wizards were keeping Borgin busy, Minerva crept into the cabinet. Smoothly transfiguring back into her human form, as the magic began pulling her form to another place, Minerva A _pparated_ to the assigned meeting place. She finally appeared underneath the overpass of the London Bridge and there stood Bellatrix.

The smaller woman stood hunched and shivering and wet. Yet the moment she spotted Minerva she straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin up, and simply peered back with glittering black eyes. “You came.”

Sniffing, Minerva briefly looked around the rather dismal conditions before settling her gaze on Bellatrix. She had her wand at the ready in her hand, but pointed down for now. “The message you delivered was… surprising. Startling, but surprising.” She paused staring intently at Britain’s most feared witch. “It was a message I’d long casted aside, with no hope of ever receiving.”

At this point, Minerva cautiously crept closer, her wand gripped even tighter even though there was no evidence of Bellatrix’s own wand. But Bellatrix LeStrange or was it Black(?), also didn’t need a wand to do serious damage. “So the question becomes, why?”

Suddenly Bellatrix grimaced, one hand clutching and rubbing her other forearm as if it pained her. Trying to suppress a violent shudder, but having no success the dark witch allowed it course through her before finally attempting to answer. Giving a brief cough, her voice hoarse from trying to expel the very dark magic from Voldemort’s Death Eater’s bond, Bellatrix gathered herself to answer. She knew that once she began this step, there was no going back, no hiding, and likely no forgiveness.

However it didn’t mean she no longer had the Black arrogance. She sneered, “Because I could no longer continue to follow the Dark Lord’s agenda.”

Minerva rolled her eyes before hardening her eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

This time it was Bellatrix who hardened her eyes. “Not before you get me somewhere warm and some food. Preferably away from those nauseating Order-do-gooders.”

Lifting her wand slightly, Minerva was quickly losing patience. “You called upon me, you need my assistance. So unless you give me something right now, I will leave you to your hovel, and go back to my warm quarters at Hogwarts.” She paused to allow this to sink in before following up with her most pressing concern. “Besides, how do I know you will not harm anyone or that you’re not some kind of spy for Voldemort?””

A muscle bunched in Bellatrix’s cheek, her dark-as-night eyes grew fierce and intense; still her wand hadn’t made an appearance. But then the dark witch stepped forward, one hand disappeared momentarily in her robes causing Minerva to tense up even more, until Belltrix’s palm outstretched with her wand lying harmlessly in the middle. “Take it. And it if would make you even more comfortable, then you may momentarily bound my magic.”

Minerva only just managed to keep her jaw from becoming agape with stunned surprise. Tentatively she reached out and retrieved the dark witch’s wand. Nodding solemnly, Minerva suddenly felt an intense sensation of sorrow and regret. “I promise to take care of it.” After securing Bellatrix’s wand, Minerva outstretched her own hand. “Take my hand Bellatrix.”

Minerva’s request meant more than a simple gesture; it was a monumental signal, even an acquiescence that could have a significant impact on the direction of this war. And it was Bellatrix’s second chance – a deal between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, one meant to save Bellatrix’s life, one she’d been offered many years ago, but she’d ignored that life-line. Minerva watched as Bellatrix hesitated, her onyx-colored eyes growing fierce and wet with unshed tears. Finally the dark witch stepped closer, almost stumbling until her ice-cold hand slowly clasped around Minerva’s.

Tightening her grip, staring down at the smaller woman, Minerva shifted until her body was almost touching Bella’s. “Ready?” Such a simple question, but within this context it held such weight, such significance.

Once again, a violent shudder erupted throughout her body causing Minerva to wrap a strong arm around Bella’s small waist. “I got you. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” With a swish of her wand, both Minerva and her new charge _Disapparated_. Little did they know that they were mere moments from discovery of two snarling, sharp-fanged, and dark-robed figures.

One sniffed the air, scenting their quarry. “She was here.”

His companion was busy scenting the air too. “So was someone else.” They both shared a look.

“The Dark Lord will not be pleased if we come back empty-handed.” However his sharp hearing picked up the sounds of humans milling about nearby. “But first, I’m hungry.” Giving a sinister smile, golden eyes glittering coldly in cruel anticipation, he followed the sounds, as his partner trailed behind.

Meanwhile two powerful witches landed in a beautiful, yet haunting countryside. Scottish, if Bellatrix had to guess by all the purple heathers coloring the rolling hills. A light fog gave it that haunting look and there was no civilization to be seen anywhere. Bellatrix followed Minerva until they came down the other side of a particularly large hill, where the fog had grown so thick, she could barely see a hand in front of her. Minerva halted her progress, took out her wand, and proceeded to give a set of complex swishes and circular movements.

Suddenly the fog dissipated, and there stood a huge stone manor. Impressive, walled-hedges with a large iron-wrought gate and the letter ‘M’ in the center, prevented them from going forward. As the fog continued to dissipate, Bella noticed the huge well-manicured lawns, lined with gorgeous flower gardens. Abruptly a house-elf appeared, wearing a McGonagall green and blue tartan. “Mistress Minerva!”

 Glancing behind her, Bellatrix noticed a dirt road led up the gates, cradled on either side with tall, ancient-looking trees. With a flourish the gates open, permitting them entrance. The joyful elf immediately wrapped itself around Minerva’s leg. “Oh, I’s so happy to see you! It has been too long!” The little elf then focused her attention on Bellatrix.

Her ears drooped and her eyes narrowed into a slight glare. “Mistress! Why have youse brought the Death Eater here?!”  
  
Patting the elf on the head, Minerva attempted to distract her. “Noa, Bellatrix is to be my guest. I expect you to treat her with respect.” With some difficulty, Minerva stooped down to Noa’s height. “She has been in the dark for a long time. It’s time to bring her back to the light. Can you help me Noa?”

Locking eyes with her mistress, before returning her attention to the proud, if slightly shivering eldest Black sister, Noa nodded, and then turned, using elf-magic, she teleported them into the manor. Once inside, they appeared in a large sweeping entrance, with white marbled floors, a huge black-iron chandelier, along with wall-sconces. Archways leading to three separate hallways, the largest archway in the middle between the two stairways, and hanging over that archway was a large banner depicting the McGonagall family crest.  Minerva turned to Bellatrix.

“Bellatrix, welcome McGonagall Manor. It has been in my family for centuries. This is Noa the McGonagall House-Elf. Noa, this is Bellatrix Black. Please grant her asylum.”

Noa approached the former- Death Eater. Reaching up, she lightly grasped Bella’s arm, the one with Voldemort’s Mark on it. For a moment, both women could feel powerful elf magic swelling in the room, as the pain in Bellatrix’s arm grew. As suddenly as the magic began, it ended.

Noa stood back. “Now, youse are hidden. But you must remove Mark soon.”

Minerva then began ushering Bellatrix up one side of the grand dual-staircase. “Let me show you to your room. Noa will bring you some clothes to change into. Unless you plan to Transfigure a new set of your own.  We’ll meet in a short while to get some proper food in you and discuss where we’ll go from here.”

An unusually meek and somewhat shell-shocked Bellatrix followed Minerva to the first landing. Highly-polished parquet floors, complete with a gorgeous antique settee, and paintings of McGonagall ancestors, some of which were glaring at Bellatrix. Others appeared concerned; particularly one couple who shot worried glances at Minerva.

The Gryffindor witch simply sighed and paused. “You are to treat Ms. Black with respect and keep all negative comments to yourselves.”

One female, a dead-ringer for a much younger Minerva, spoke up. “But Minnie…! Bellatrix Black ki—“

Rubbing a hand along her brow, trying to stave off a headache, Minerva held up a hand. “I am fully aware of Ms. Black’s history with this family.”

This time she walked over to the portrait. Her Aunt Morven had been part of the Order, she was killed by Bellatrix during the first Wizarding War. Her mum, Maureen was her twin and the moment her sister died all the light went out of her. Eventually, she died too, particularly once Minerva’s father was killed  trying to save Muggle-born wizards during an attack led by another group of Death Eaters on a small village. “I know Morven. I will explain more once I get her settled. But you must trust me.”

Morven practically wrung her hands in worry and no little anger at Bellatrix being her home. Suddenly her shoulders slumped, as her eyes grew weary. “Fine. But I willna wait long Minnie.”

Finally, Minerva and Bellatrix arrived in a room which Minerva called the Blue Bedroom. “We do not have a Black Bedroom.” Minerva dryly drawled to which Bellatrix responded by rolling her eyes.

However the room was beautiful. The walls were painted a light-blue, one large floor-to-ceiling window sat facing a courtyard, mixed with more gardens. A large four-poster bed and a sitting area. Minerva pointed towards the ensuite bathroom door. “You should have everything you need to freshen up. If not, feel free to call for Noa. I’ll come collect you in two hours.” And with that, Minerva left Bellatrix to her own devices.

Almost immediately, Minerva encountered Noa, while trying to silence all the shouted questions and comments from various ancestors. “Her stay is temporary. I cannot help her in the way she needs. I have her wand, Noa has muted her Dark Mark, and I believe that she is sincere in her desire for redemption.”

“But Minnie… I cannot… she is responsible for Morven’s death! How can you—“

“I am asking you, as the Head of the Honorable McGonagall Clan to trust me.” For some reason, at that moment Minerva felt overcome with emotions, the recent fight and her subsequent recovery from Dolores’ Stunners, and the fact that once again, she would be unable to truly protect her children. Add another impending war, and the elder Gryffindor began to get overwhelmed and teary-eyed.  “Please.”

At her obvious emotional plea, every portrait quieted, except for a few sniffles. Nodding, Minerva continued onto her own rooms. “Thank you.” She quietly responded.

After taking a refreshing bath and changing into cleaner robes with the requisite McGonagall tartan colors, Minerva was sitting at a beautiful wooden desk in the manor’s large, gorgeous library. She was completing an urgent message to Mr. Giles at the Council asking them to grant Bellatrix asylum and to take over her subsequent rehabilitation. Minerva suspected that Bella’s veins and magical core had become heavily influenced with dark magic throughout the years.

After securing it to her owl, a gorgeous Great Grey Owl, she gave it a treat. “Now dear, I need you to take this to the New Council in London as quick as you can. For Mr. Giles’ eyes-only. And then return just as quickly. Can you do that for me?”

Flapping its wings in an indignant fashion, as if he was insulted that she’d even ask that question, it squawked, and then took off out an open window. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N It is my hope to post additional chapter before I leave on a mini-vacation. But if not, more should be coming within the next two weeks. At least, if I keep my fingers crossed.
> 
> *PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give feedback, it honestly helped kept me writing. Thank you!

**Shiny New Apple**

_An Unexpected Meeting at Diagon Alley_

 

Narcissa sat in her usual place, at her usual time; the only assignation that she was allowed to keep these days. She coolly ignored all the looks and whispers directed at her as she browsed through the latest book she’d just bought. She knew what people thought of her, since everyone knew that Lucius was a known Death Eater, even perhaps that her home was a known headquarters for the Death Eaters and Voldemort, meant that she was considered “dark and evil.” Aside from the occasional pure-blood enthusiast who’d offer a discreet greeting, others simply avoided her out of fear or disdain. Narcissa no longer allowed the public scrutiny to bother her; she wore her icy-façade like shroud. But inside she was weary, exhausted, and overwhelmed.

And scared. A soulless creature named Balthazar; representative of the infamous Wolfram & Hart firm, which had small office on Knockturn Alley, announced his presence by requesting a meeting with the Dark Lord. Luckily, with her son still at Hogwarts, Narcissa simply showed him to the drawing room, while she made a hasty exit off the premises. She spared a few moments to worry about Bellatrix, knowing that whatever Balthazar was offering, it was sure to ruin any mental… improvements her eldest sister had made. Granted those moments were few and far between, but it was enough that it made trying to make a permanent exit with Draco, to Andromeda and… Faith, and into the Order’s arms that much more difficult.

Difficult because now Narcissa was trying to find a way to encourage her sister to leave with her; an almost impossible endeavor, considering Bellatrix had been Voldemort’s steady and loyal second-in-command. However, that Battle of the Department of Mysteries truly unsettled Bella. On the occasion she was able to sleep, she remained tortured. From their “dear loving” father, her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, to her fourteen-years in Azkaban, along with the continued ‘tender’ attentions bestowed by the Dark Lord, many of which included activities that darkened and tortured the soul, it was entirely understandable why Bella eventually became so unhinged. To allow a hint of questioning of a life that’d been drilled into her, that allowed her to quiet the abuse and effects of Dark Magic, mute the perception of blood on one’s hands, with such a master of Legilimency as Voldemort, was very dangerous.

Most wouldn’t have the stomach to continue; whether through ending their own lives, losing one’s mind completely, or the most painful of all – continuing on through any doubts, would have brought lesser people to their knees. For someone like Bella it was a bit like experiencing a heart-attack; intense, crushing pain, but only she’d have the strength to push through. The question is will she continue to self-rehabilitate. Sighing, Narcissa shook herself of such heavy thoughts, if only for a few moments, weariness once again, settling across her shoulders.

The ring over the door signaled another person entering. Sitting up even straighter, Narcissa recognized the sleekly-muscled, yet womanly figure strolling into the store. Familiar blood-red hair, delicate features, wearing a dark-green leather jacket and jeans clued Narcissa in, as the red-head took a moment to briefly look around the shop, before heading over to the counter. When she turned around, holding two large, leather-bound books, and she had spelled a tea-set to follow her to a nearby table. Narcissa’s eyes widened. With her heart racing, what was she doing here?! Narcissa watched as she settled into her seat, placing the books down, and then casually waved her hand over the pot of tea, as she muttered an incantation.

When the red-head lifted her head, her eyes seemed to land right into Narcissa’s, brightening. The blonde couldn’t be sure what happened next, but everything in the room seemed to fall away; sound, smells, everything blurred white. Except for Willow. Narcissa could not understand this… attraction; her clothes were entirely too Muggle-like, even if they were admittedly…  sexy on her.  Shaking her head as if to clear it of fuzziness, and to help her focus on anything other than the woman, it was then that Narcissa realized that she wasn’t the only one looking at Willow. In fact, whispers, sneaking looks to outright gob-smacked stares was causing the woman to blush and shift with all the attention.

Taking a longer, considering look at the younger, red-headed woman, as sniggling bits of memory rumbled through her brain; hearsay, rumors, and speculation following the DoM battle. And they were all about someone called the Red Witch. Even before the battle, Narcissa seemed to remember that moniker being mentioned long ago by Lucius when he’d returned home from work at the Ministry in a state about a wandless witch who had threatened to end the world or some such nonsense. It had the Ministry scrambling because how, if the reports were true, a witch of such power had remained hidden from them. Now of course, she’d been hearing from various Death Eaters, and in particular the Dark Lord, of how they were gathering intelligence regarding Willow, with the idea of kidnapping her.

Needless to say, it gave Narcissa immense satisfaction when Death Eaters often returned sans Willow. Their grumbling, followed by the subsequent and predictable punishment from the Dark Lord, was gratifying. That is if he was in attendance. Lately, he’d been disappearing for lengths of time and chances are it meant nothing good.

What the Wizarding world didn’t know, including Narcissa, was that their attempts to locate Willow were summarily and firmly discouraged by the powerful Wiccan Coven of Devon and the Council. Plus being Faith’s co-partner-in-crime, she’d been informally adopted by the Ravendors, and by extension the few remaining Blacks. Since the arrogant Wizarding government believed that magic that was not Wizarding magic was substandard, there was little effort from the executive branch to learn much about Wiccan magic. It was that type of idiotic arrogance that made them so ill-prepared for threats like Voldemort, who used any means of magic to promote his tyranny. Of course, all of these considerable barriers to Willow discounted the theory that the red-head may very well be more powerful than either Dumbledore or Voldemort. Fortunately, this was a little known fact to the larger Wizarding community, which is why Narcissa stifled the urge to sweep up the young woman in her arms and _Disapparate_ away before trouble found the red-head.

Immediately, Narcissa gave a mental pause, stifling the urge to curse over the unusual protective instinct; an instinct she only reserved for family, and even then, not all of them. However further introspection was interrupted when someone sat down across from her; the smell of jasmine and vanilla becoming a heady combination for Narcissa.

Widening her eyes at her sudden companion, but steadily ignoring the intensifying looks of speculation from the other patrons of the store, Narcissa narrowed her eyes at a smiling Willow. Leaning forward, she hissed, “What are you doing?!”

Looking momentarily puzzled, Willow quickly casted her eyes about before returning them on the beautiful woman in front of her. “I’m joining you.” She stated as if obvious. She then smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but you were looking all lonely and stuff.”

Narcissa wondered if ignoring the obvious social cues (which included the danger of associating with her) was a peculiar American trait. Barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes, Narcissa icily stared at Willow. “Have you completely lost any sense?! Do you know who I am? Leave now!”  
  
At that, Willow let out a tinkling laugh. Raising a well-manicured eyebrow, her expression becoming inscrutable, Willow allowed a few moments to go by as she gazed at the aristocratic witch. Taking in those beautiful ice-blue eyes, down to her patrician nose, then to her surprisingly full pink lips, and delicate chin, Willow wished the blonde witch would wear some contemporary Muggle clothes. Almost involuntarily, her eyes continued their journey down Narcissa’s swan-line neck, and now slightly heaving ponderous, yet perfectly contained breasts. Realizing where her eyes traveled, Willow’s face and neck grew hot with a mighty blush, her skin almost matching her hair as her eyes snapped up to the now narrowed gaze.

Narcissa raised a perfectly-manicured eyebrow at the temerity of the young red-head. Internally, she struggled mightily to control the slight heat curling up from deep within her stomach, twitching her abdominal muscles, up over her breasts, nipples tightening under those brilliant grass-green eyes. The blonde witch became thankful that she was wearing robes that covered most of her skin below her neck; otherwise she’d be struggling to hide the spectacle of the answering flush that settled along the slope of her breasts, and was currently crawling up along her shoulders. An involuntary shiver tickled along her spine.

Clenching her jaw, her lips thinning as Willow once again, threatened her legendary control. _“What do you think you are doing?!  You cannot remain here!”_ was what she should have said. Instead she hissed the words, “Have you gotten your fill?” causing the younger woman to flush a deeper red, yet her eyes to darken in heat.

“I’ll leave if you come with me.” In the back of Willow’s mind she wondered what she was thinking. This was completely unlike the slightly shy, reticent, sweet Willow. And cautious. Because while her friends, particularly Faith or the Scoobies often hit first, ask questions later, Willow tended to take a more circumspect approach. She was the strategist, the one who was the supportive friend of the more wild, unrestrained Faith and bolder Buffy.

Yet, something about Narcissa incited some of her… Dark-Willow instincts. Actually, more like her Vamp-Willow characteristics. She knew it was dangerous and reckless, particularly because Willow had a sniggling suspicion that she knew **who** Narcissa was. More complicated was her connection to Faith and Andromeda. For Andy, the blonde witch was a painful reminder of the family she’d once belonged to, of the treasured relationship she had with her sisters. For Faith, Narcissa was the ‘bitchy’ aunt; but Willow suspected that Faith understood Narcissa’s situation better than most.

Willow was also aware that Narcissa was married, and to a Death Eater no less. So now she found herself in a conundrum, the likes of which she’d never thought she’d ever experience. Regardless of these facts, Willow was still very attracted to Narcissa and even as she mentally told herself to not sit at Narcissa’s table, Willow found herself boldly ignoring the stares and whispered murmurings to slide into the chair opposite the blonde. The fact is Willow was drawn Narcissa and she’d been unable to stop thinking of her since their all-too-brief moment in that alley.

The red-head also knew that ever since she’d become the Emissary of two goddesses, Willow had been aware that while she was essentially still ‘her’, the edgier parts of her personality, the kinkier parts (as Faith called it) that made themselves known during her Dark-Willow days, now sometimes _eeked_ out. It made for a slightly… at times, bitchier Willow. Ever since her rehabilitation, Willow had gone out of her way to suppress her darker impulses, to always… present the Old-Willow, the one who once wore those horrible sweaters and long skirts (although her wardrobe had improved  somewhat), the one who’d go out of her way to be Buffy’s Scooby, the white-hat.

It was Faith who encouraged her to think out ** _who_** she was, not what she thought other people wanted her to be, and that she was allowed to want things, and to go after those things. Faith called it her “Mistress” side, her “no fucking around” side, and it had been enhanced since becoming the Emissary. Willow believed that this new facet of her personality has affected her magic; making it stronger, more brilliant, and more organically connected to her – as if it emoted. It almost seemed as if the magic she practiced before was somehow muffled in comparison; which was why she was starting to feel a sense of outright concern to almost edge out the simmering arousal.

Because even as she was wondering how she could get the blonde witch somewhere private, she could also smell the taint of dark magic clinging to the blonde witch like cigarette smoke. Switching to her magic **_Sight_** , she was relieved to note that the magic seemed to come from outside of Narcissa, rather than from inside – which meant she’d recently been around a great deal of dark magic. With some alarm she also noted that there seemed to be an oily-like presence of even darker, truly evil magic clinging to her clothes. But Willow also knew her help would not be wanted… at least not yet. However it only heightened her need, even her magic seemed to want to literally grab Narcissa up and teleport somewhere safe. She realized that this newer magic actually emoted around Narcissa. When she’d first entered the shop, she had to really concentrate from preventing her magic from erupting from her fingertips like a static shock. Only one person caused that reaction (other than Faith, but she knew her friend was elsewhere) – the blonde witch.

When Willow started to realize out who Narcissa was, she’d sincerely hoped that would quell her fascination (more like obsession). But after yet another incidental magic outburst during her dream-state, one that left her gasping, soaked in sweat, with thoroughly drenched panties, the red-head wondered if it was something… more between them. Something neither of them had much control over. Something magical.

Willow remembered her involuntary reaction the moment she found out about Narcissa’s husband, Lucius Malfoy. He sounded like a complete power-hungry poophead; or that’s the name Dawn had given him. They wondered why she’d married someone like that, much less stay married to him. But Andy insisted that as part of one’s responsibilities as a member of a Pureblood family like the Blacks, arranged-marriages were facilitated, and divorce usually wasn’t an option. Narcissa had been no different; practically from birth, their parents consorted with the Malfoy family to pair their children together. Lucius of course, was a long-time follower of the racist Pureblood crap, hence the reason he joined Voldemort’s cause.

Willow also knew about the long-time estrangement between Narcissa and Andy, and by extension Tonks. Once Andromeda went against her family’s wishes, she was completely disowned, which meant her sisters were essentially ‘lost’ to her. Andy never admitted it, but Willow knew that she lived with a deep hurt and desperately missed her sisters. It was also clear that Tonks simply wanted to be accepted and loved by her aunts. Yet, none of these complications mattered because late at night, alone in her bed, Willow would wake up covered in sweat, her hand in between her thighs, fingers sticky with her juices from the latest dream about the blonde witch.

She wanted Narcissa Malfoy in a way that she’d never experienced and it seemed to echo though her magic. It also resonated on a primal physical level. From her erotic dreams to simply being in Narcissa’s presence, her body reacted to the older blonde. Even now, with her lips thinned in anger, Willow imagined them pressed against her skin, or taking in mouth in a possessive kiss. Glacial-blue eyes blazed in disapproval at the red-head, but Willow imagined what they looked like heavy-lidded with passion and want. Elegant hands, long-fingered digits sent Willow’s mind in a direction that had her slightly squirming as she imagined those fingers probing deep inside her or tugging mercilessly on her nipples. Nipples that were currently erect and begging for her attention.

When Narcissa’s eyes darkened, her body suddenly becoming still, she narrowed her eyes at Willow as if she **knew** what the red-head was thinking. The older woman stood gracefully from her seat, startling a blushing Willow. Gripping her wand and her purse, Narcissa gripped Willow’s wrist like a vice-like grip, and started for the door. Letting out a small yelp, Willow hurried after the blonde witch, as she allowed Narcissa to drag her out the door. It was only as she stepped out after the blonde that Willow saw two dark-robbed men and a woman staring sinisterly at them that she acknowledged that she should have been a tad more discreet.

Readying a teleportation spell, Willow allowed Narcissa to drag her to yet another alley, all the while watching as the dark-robbed figures followed them with wands out. Right as Narcissa about to light into her, Willow tugged the woman close to her, her arms wrapping tight around the older witch’s warm body, and insisted, “Hold on.”

Magic swallowed Narcissa’s gasp of surprise and outrage as both women disappeared right as the three Death Eaters entered the alley. They paused in surprise, looking around fruitlessly for the red-head and Mrs. Malfoy. “Where did those two go?!” asked one of the males.

Shrugging, the female Death Eater responded, “I ‘ave no idea.”  
  
The other male simply cursed. “Bloody hell! We’re going to catch hell for losing them.”

Meanwhile Narcissa and Willow appeared on the Council grounds, no doubt setting off the wards Willow helped set. Still hugging the woman close to her body, Willow found herself nuzzling Narcissa’s neck, inhaling her delicious scent. Narcissa’s hands ended up gripping Willow’s shoulders, her nails digging into cloth and lightly bruising skin underneath.

For a moment, Narcissa forgot that she was supposed to be filled with righteous indignation; she’d essentially been kidnapped, by some young Muggle-born witch, using wandless magic. Her, Narcissa Malfoy, wife of a known Death Eater! But for just a few moments, she found herself reveling in this witch’s arms, enjoying the sensation of Willow’s sleekly-muscled form pressed against hers. _She wished that they had on less clothes_ , was the fleeting thought.  A thought broken up by petal-soft lips brushing against the skin of her neck, lips that began suckling along her jawline awakening sensations she’d only imagined, or experienced to much lesser degree.

It didn’t even occur to her to worry about Willow marking her delicate skin, particularly as those lips made their way close to her slightly panting mouth; a mouth that suddenly, desperately wanted to feel if Willow’s lips were as soft as she suspected. Slowly Willow lifted her mouth from the corner of Narcissa’s lips for a brief moment, darkened green orbs stared into once ice-blood ones now gone as dark as depthless ocean. Aside from unpleasant moments dealing with the Dark Lord or Bella during her more insane moments, Narcissa had never felt more… out of control.

She knew she should be slapping the younger woman and _Apparating_ away. Narcissa also knew that she shouldn’t be reveling in how perfect Willow fit against her body. And she definitely knew she shouldn’t be momentarily imagining, even wishing that the red-head was naked and spread out before her to enjoy like a decadent banquet.

It was when Willow brushed her oh-so soft lips against Narcissa’s, even going so far as to capture her bottom lip to brief suck that the blonde witch realized things had gone too far. Flushing hotly, Narcissa jerked away from Willow, before finally slapping her. The miniscule sensation of fierce satisfaction at seeing her hand-print against Willow’s face was viciously squashed. The satisfaction didn’t stem from hurting her; no, it was because she liked that she’d marked the red-head.

Mentally shaking her head, Narcissa prepared to unleash a verbal tongue-lashing on Willow, only to be cut off by running feet and shouting. Quickly she watched as Willow stepped protectively in front of her as a group of young women ran up to them. “Whoa! It’s ok. Everything is fine.” Willow held up her hands in a placating gesture as the Slayers stopped before them. 

A short-haired blonde girl frowned before speaking up. “But she… she just smacked you!” she replied indignantly.

“I’m fine. We were just having a small misunderstanding--”

A brunette chimed in. “But, you’re Willow. You don’t have misunderstandings.”

Sighing and rolling her eyes. Willow wished people would stop being so intimidated by her, or worse thinking she rarely makes mistakes (well apart from her Dark Willow days). Sneaking a look at the once again, coolly composed Narcissa Malfoy, she could only sigh again, and restrained herself from reaching up to rub her reddened cheek. “Look, I’m fine. This is… Narcissa and she is my guest.”

Even though the girls glared warningly at the blonde witch, Willow returned her attention to Narcissa. “These are… my students. If you will follow me, we’ll iron out the details of our project,” she lied. 

It was then that Narcissa realized that they were on rolling green hills, with a huge castle in the near distance. Luckily it didn’t appear to be too far a walk. _Students?_ She snuck a look at the young women who ranged in age, but generally around Draco’s age. The wash of… something other than human emanated from them, and from the growls she’d heard during their initial interactions, Narcissa suspected that they were a little more than human.

“Well should we get on?! I don’t have all day.” Narcissa demanded.

Another young woman, this one a tad older than the others and of Indian descent, spoke up as she stared down Narcissa. “Everyone go on, I’ll escort them.”

This time it was Narcissa who rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Figuring that she was heading towards the castle, the blonde witch began walking, briefly leaving Willow behind before she started walking fast to catch up. Once she did, she swallowed hard, and then bravely lightly gripped Narcissa’s wrist, causing the blonde to stop in her tracks.

Even as Narcissa narrowed in eyes as she once again, prepared to launch a verbal attack against Willow, the red-head stepped closer to the Pureblood. She muttered a quick silencing spell ensuring that none of their companions heard their conversation. “I’m… I’m sorry I kissed you.” Upon seeing the very brief flicker of hurt in those blue eyes, hurt that was immediately dispelled, Willow clenched her jaw, and explained further. “I mean, I’m sorry I kissed you without permission.” She paused. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

A look of surprise, along with a dusting of pink rising along her cheeks, satisfied Willow. Briefly smiling, she nodded at a stupefied Narcissa before dispelling the silencing spell, and continuing their journey to the Council HQ building up ahead. After a rather long walk due to delays from various people seeking Willow’s council, it was a few moments later that Narcissa followed Willow into a large beautiful room, filled with books, and gleaming Muggle devices. The room led into a kitchen, as well as two other rooms that she assumed might hold a bathroom and bedroom.

Willow waved her to a seat in a large, comfortable-looking, leather sofa, as she walked towards a side-table. It allowed the red-head a moment to gain her composure. Narcissa primly sat, crossing her legs as she took in the rather comfortable Muggle accommodations. She wanted to desperately quell her curiosity; Willow obviously had an inherent love for learning as she did, if the stack-upon-stack and shelves of books were any indication.

Then there were the Muggle contraptions; a sleek silvery square object on the table with an apple sign in its middle, along with a sleek and thin television (even she was familiar with this fascinating instrument) sitting on the wall with some kind of Sticking Charm(?). The room was comfortable and lived-in.

Nothing like the uncomfortably proper and somewhat cold, Malfoy Manor. 


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING UP AHEAD: PLEASE DO NOT READ AT WORK!
> 
> A/N: As always thank you so much for checking out my story, taking the time to give feedback, or Favor/Follow-ing it.
> 
> ***It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyways, thank you to my lovely betas: bearblue and ladydragonstorm

**Behemoth Sunshine**

 

_A Sensual Interlude_

Narcissa once again, found her eyes drawn back to her red-headed host. She knew she should return to the Manor, but the oppressive and increasingly evil, as opposed to simply Dark, energy gained power in her home made her want to be anywhere but there.

But Narcissa was pulled away from her troubled thoughts when Willow suddenly spoke up. “Would you care for something to drink? I have tea, coffee—my preferred choice. Although, I’m only allowed two cups a day since I tend to go from somewhat calm to hyper-space in a matter of moments of completing my second cup. But then I’ve been told that I start rambling right away after—“  
  
“I believe that you may want to consider a calmer tea in the future.” Narcissa stated with some amusement.

However, once again she became distracted when that tantalizing wave of delicious, deeper pink swept up Willow’s chest, up along her neck to her face. “However, I believe some tea for me would be fine. Earl Grey if you have it.”

Willow rolled her eyes in self-deprecation before turning towards her little kitchen to prepare their drinks and some snacks. Although she wasn’t feeling very… snack-y. She was feeling edgy, fidgety, as if she really had down two double-shot mochas with extra whip cream. Narcissa was in **her** room; with her enhanced senses, Willow could smell the blonde’s unique scent softly fluttering around the room. It tickled her magic. Again. She wondered if Narcissa sensed… something between them. She had to if she’d allowed Willow to drag her here.

Willow had reason to truly worry because Narcissa was equally drawn to the red-head and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. As if a Pureblood witch such as Narcissa had the luxury of engaging in any meaningful same-sex relationship, particularly in this climate. Plus she can still feel the Dark Pureblood Bond to Lucius, even if it had grown faint. This Bond prevented her from divorcing or actually leaving Lucius since he’d be able to locate Narcissa if she’d gone missing for more than five days . Its original intention had been as a means to keep the wife subservient and subjugated until the husband died. However, in spite of Narcissa marrying into the Malfoy family, she was ultimately a Black, and as such the Marriage Bonds were significantly weakened.

The Bond definitely didn’t prevent her body or magic from responding to Willow as she drew closer. Watching place her tea on the table, along with some snacks, some of which looked completely unrecognizable to Narcissa, they found themselves locking eyes again.  Instead of taking a seat in another chair, or somewhere on the couch with Narcissa, Willow found herself perched on the table directly in front of the blonde witch.

Drawing in a deep breath, inhaling the tantalizing scent of Willow, Narcissa was reminded of how she ended up here in the first place. Her lips still tingled and swollen from being possessed by the younger woman’s mouth, without even realizing it, her hand had risen to tenderly brush against them.  She almost gasped at how sensitive they’d become before noticing the darkened green orbs staring back at her. Ferociously grabbing what little will she had left, she managed to snatch her hand away, returning it to her lap, while pulling on her infamous, and deceptively icy-façade.

But the way Willow continued to stare at her and was once again, threatening her control.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her that way.  Leering yes, even the occasional momentary gritty impersonal lust that filled a few of her former assignations, absolutely; but this was a look of deep want. As if Willow wanted to ravish her, a look of possessive hunger without any hint of artifice. She wanted to tear her eyes away, but it was if Willow had somehow magically pinned her in place. All ambient sound, both external and internal became muted. Instead her breath sounded as loud as a drumbeat and her heart grew thunderous and profound. Clutching her hands together tightly, as if to prevent them from reaching out to drag the younger witch close, Narcissa gave into the building tension, allowing her eyes to flutter close, hoping to lessen Willow’s impact on her.

The sound of shifting air caused her eyes to fly open, only to have them widen at Willow’s much closer proximity. Sitting directly in front of her, perched intently towards her on the edge of the wooden coffee table. Narcissa knew that if she moved back, she’d give up what little control she had over the situation. She didn’t know why that mattered; perhaps it was the sense that if she gave into the admittedly mutual attraction between them, once would not be enough. Or perhaps it was about the fact that so much of her life was chaotic; knowing that this younger, powerful witch had the ability to completely unravel her was terrifying. Or mayhap Narcissa knew that to give into this moment, meant never going back; her life as she knew it would truly be over.

Like her sisters, she’d been groomed to be the perfect Pureblood wife and she’d fulfilled that role until Lucius either dies or somehow dissolves the Bond. Any further rumination was interrupted by warm fingers curling around her stocking-covered knee peeking out from under her robes and skirt.  Instead of the expected righteous indignation, both women could only hypnotically watch as the younger woman slowly, inexorably moved her hand further up her thigh, dragging the edge of her robes, and leaving trails of fire in her wake. Underneath the expensive silk stockings; her skin’s sudden sensitivity only seemed to heighten; tightening things deep inside, drenching the delicate lacy panties she was wearing.

She began to wonder if her heaving breasts did nothing to hide her wickedly-tight nipples or the damning flush as it flowed up along her pale skin. When Willow shifted even closer, one of her jean-covered legs sliding in between Narcissa’s, as she placed another hand on Narcissa’s other knee, the older witch gasped. Her breathing grew unsteady, her body quivered in place, particularly when both of Willow’s hands crept further up her pale, toned thighs, bunching her skirt and even robes along the way. Her skin further pinkened, goosebumps erupted, and it was all she from almost pushing herself  into the red-head’s hands.

Then the red-head moved even closer, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck , and nibbled along Narcissa’s jawline. Why the blonde wasn’t stopping things, she couldn’t discern. Heat exploded up from her center, coating her thighs with her juices, swelling her pussy, pulsing her clit, and her nipples  tightened to the point where the friction from her nearly panting breaths was nearly painful against the lace of her bra. However one of Willow’s hands shifted even further up, her fingertips crept underneath her bunched robes to smooth up towards Narcissa’s inner-thigh until her fingertips glanced over Narcissa’s smear of essence. Willow teasingly prodded even further, pressing against the thoroughly drenched panel of lacy underwear. Reveling in the blonde’s apparent arousal, Willow cooed while her fingers lightly tickled the older witch’s swollen labial-lips. Willow teasingly stretched out around the scrap of lace, before finally moved aside Narcissa’s panties to dip in between the peaks and valleys of her distended flesh, coating her fingertips even more. Giving into her own arousal the red-head crushed her lips to Narcissa’s, swallowing her groan and whimpers of pleasure.

Aside from the few times Lucius had shared her bed, particularly before Draco was born, Narcissa tended to ‘rule’ the bedroom. In fact, as angry as Lucius pretended to become afterwards, when Narcissa ‘topped’ in the bedroom, no one came harder than her “beloved” husband. Outside of their marriage, while the ‘rules’ weren’t necessarily defined, her lovers tended to let Narcissa steer things along. Mostly it was done out of her need for control and assured discretion. Blindfolds, bondage, mild discipline were rarely used, mostly because Narcissa didn’t allow anyone to see beyond her icy-façade.

Hence the reason her current predicament had her so… unbalanced, yet so unbelievably turned on.

Meanwhile, Willow took in the thoroughly tousled and sensual tableau that the blonde witch presented; her clothes askew, somehow her robes had opened enough to show off the more than impressive lace-encased breasts. It made Willow feel as if some wild magic had taken possession of her body. But like a rollercoaster, she couldn’t wait to experience the entire ride.

Even though Willow wasn’t exactly on autopilot, she could catalogue every scent, every sound, every sensation, like the silky feel of Narcissa’s stocking thighs and warm skin underneath. But it was as if something else had taken possession of her body, and It decided that It/She wanted Narcissa naked and quivering beneath her. Willow tended to be… nice, vanilla even. But from the moment she spotted Narcissa at that wizarding-bookstore, it jarred something loose inside her. Something feral, something she’d seen in her Vampire-Willow-half, definitely something she’d seen it during her Dark-Willow days: dominance.

But unlike those instances, this need to gain Narcissa’s submission wasn’t… dark and controlling. It was a **_need_** to claim and protect, and it also spoke to her admittedly, deeply-hidden, kinky side. One that Faith swore she had, but that Willow had long denied. There was also the sense that this was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. It was as if her…core, or soul was signaling that Narcissa had been somehow made for Willow, and vice versa. At first this was very disconcerting. After all, Willow believed that her one great love had been, or was Tara. But maybe…she had two. Her magic seemed to agree; Willow’s magic was most definitely acting… differently around the blonde witch.

It swirled contentedly within the tight confines of her control, but then it would begin to intensify, building pressure underneath her skin as the sexual tension between them grew. So even though Narcissa had yet to truly touch Willow, it was if her body had worked itself into sexual lather, while teasingly dangling relief. However the need to taste Narcissa again grew overpowering, muting any further introspection, particularly as the blonde tipped her head back when Willow began nibbling along the smooth, swan-like neck , up along her jaw until she once again reached Narcissa’s tantalizing lips, nipping her bottom lip before her tongue sought and was granted access to plunder the blonde’s mouth.

By this time she was practically kneeling in between Narcissa’s thighs; one knee nudging the fingers busy exploring the honeyed wet warmth, as she kneeled over the blonde woman, her lips and tongue deepening their already intense kiss. Even as she continued rimming the older witch’s entrance, ignoring for now, the pulsating nub begging for attention. When Narcissa started to suckle on Willow’s tongue, the red-head wrapped her other arm around Narissa’s waist, dragging her even tighter to the Wiccan’s body. When air finally became an issue their lips parted only for Willow to lift her lips, nibbling their way to the sensitive area around Naricissa’s earlobe.

Pressing her body into the couch, Willow paused, lifted her head, realizing that she was almost panting from the molasses-like lust clouding her present.  Her clothes became intolerable, practically scratching against sensitive skin and her jeans were growing more uncomfortable as her own juices drenched the seam of her heavy pants. Her consciousness caught up with her enough to stare her darkened and heavy-lidded green eyes into Narcissa’s heavy-lidded cerulean blues. As if her head were suddenly too heavy, she leaned her forehead onto Narcissa’s, their swollen lips brushing against each other. Willow managed to wrestle the need to spell away their clothes, and finally, needfully, press her fingers deep into Narcissa’s cunt.

“Narcissa… tell me. Tell me… you want this. Because if you don’t stop me I won’t be able to…”

It was at this moment that Willow realized her magic was… bubbling like hot lava, threatening to erupt from deep inside her core, reaching out towards Narcissa. The moment she stopped, their bodies pressed tightly together, even as her palm drenched with Narcissa’s juices, now gently cupping the blonde witch’s mound, her magic was displeased that she’d stopped.  And for a moment, Willow wondered if perhaps her magic might not give her choice. However immediately she stopped that train of thought because she no longer allowed magic to control her… she hoped.

What she didn’t realize, that Narcissa was starting to realize that perhaps neither of them had a choice. Many people assumed Bella was the brilliant one, but all the Black sisters were talented, perhaps equally talented in some areas. Narcissa, like Bellatrix became knowledgeable about different magics. But unlike Bella, Narcissa had the opportunity to explore and practice; discreetly of course. After all, Pureblood wives were required to be the aristocratic housewife, particularly the Black women. But unbeknownst to their parents, the Black siblings were entirely too industrious and intelligent and powerful to be a simple housewife.

The Black and Malfoy families had collected libraries of rare tomes of magical knowledge throughout the centuries, which allowed Narcissa to expand her education, despite her social confines. Granted much of this knowledge fell into the Dark magic category, but some fell into the Neutral magic category. This category often included theories and spells that were unpredictable and difficult to manipulate because the end result was uncertain and depended on the purity of intention, purity of soul, or the elements, perhaps even all the above. One such, magic involved Soul-Bonds; such bonds were infinite, destined, and completely uncontrollable. She’d found it fascinating reading, but one she dismissed since she remained wholly unconcerned because the magic was ancient, rare, if unheard of.

And yet… she was beginning to wonder if she’d somehow found her Soul-Bond.

At the moment, she was fairly certain that through both her body and her magic the thought of stopping was almost painful. Instead of answering, she slid her hand behind Willow’s head, tangling her long fingers into that gorgeous mane of burgundy to smash their lips together. Growling as their tongues battled, Willow swallowed her gasp as those fingers began to press inside.

Breaking their lips, she gasped “Oh!” as fingers began probing deeply and slowly, filling her up. “Willow!”

Her skin felt feverish and uncomfortable, when suddenly she felt instant relief only to realize that Willow had spelled their clothes away. Eyes clenched tight in pleasure, she could only hold on as those fingers paused, their tips prodding that roughened patch of skin inside. Hot lips began making their way over the slopes of her breasts, swirling patterns along the smooth flushed skin, until they came to her areola.

“Narcissa, look at me.” Willow hoarsely commanded.

Feeling as if weights were on her eyelids, she barely lifted them staring into younger witch’s intense eyes, before watching as Willow’s pink tongue slowly, sensually laved along her areola, her nipple becoming even more erect. Shifting restlessly, wanting to dragging that teasing, smart mouth over nipple. Instead her fingers, still tangled into Willow’s crimson strands, tightened around them, her nails digging slightly into Willow’s scalp. But Willow simply began lapping and suckling her way to the other breast, reveling at Narcissa’s sound of whimper-whine and Narcissa suddenly knew what the red-head wanted.

When those fingers inside her began to twitch, stroke, and massage her wet channel, Narcissa gasped again. “Yes!”

But Willow slowly, but inexorably pulled her fingers out and brought them to her lips to slowly lap at the glistening juices coating them.  Savoring the musky-honeyed flavors, she insisted, “Yes, what?”

She also took this opportunity to sit up and truly take in the visual erotic masterpiece of Narcissa Malfoy flushed and naked and hungry for her. Those normally icy-blue eyes had become half-mast, darkened with a ring of black around the irises. Her blonde hair had become undone spread out and tangled around her head and shoulders. Her lips swollen and pink from their kisses, nipples red and glistening from Willow’s attention stood erect, daring Willow to take them in her mouth again. Creamy skin had become flushed, shimmering from the sheen of sweat, accentuating the surprisingly lithe and firm curves and muscles.

Leaning back a little further, Willow became captivated by her the well-trimmed curls, darkened from arousal, and there was a tantalizing scent emanating from Narcissa’s cunt that matched the taste still lingering on her tongue.  Suddenly Willow knew she had to have more. And finally, there was the glow. Willow had noticed earlier when they first began kissing. But then it was only a slight glow; a wispy sort of green that outlined Narcissa’s body that deepened in color wherever Willow was touching her.

Now it no longer outlined her body – it seemed to emanate from within the blonde witch. Willow knew she should be concerned, but using her Sight the glow, or magic wasn’t Dark or seemed menacing. Instead she focused on extracting Narcissa’s… gentle submission. Willow didn’t know why this deeply buried dominant personality was appearing or why it was making itself known now.  But her magic was humming now, filling her veins, coursing along with the desire, building steadily. Becoming distracted once again, by those delicious nipples Willow bent down, her attention returning to Narcissa’s heaving breasts.

Her lips surrounded Narcissa’s aching nipple, desperately wanting the rigid nub against her tongue. Goosebumps erupted across Narcissa’s skin as she practically thrusted her chest up, shoving her nipple further into Willow’s mouth. Meanwhile Willow’s fingers started circling the blonde’s throbbing clit before gently pinching and rolling it.

“Oh-oh, Merlin! Please!” Her other hand slid down along Willow’s muscular shoulders, down her toned s back, her nails digging into her sweat-dampened skin. Her legs wound themselves around Willow’s waist, holding her in place.

When Willow simply gave a teasing lick at the tip of her nipple, Narcissa had finally had enough. Her hand that was still tangled in Willow’s hair tightened even more, almost jerking the red-head’s attention to her flushed face. “Please Willow! Yes!”

Growling, Willow hungrily suckled her nipple into her mouth, her tongue curled around the tip, enjoying the way the blonde’s body heaved and shuddered in pleasure. At the same time, Willow curled three fingers deep inside, stuffing Narcissa’s cunt, making it throb from feeling even fuller. Her thumb kept the tension on her clit, strumming and stroking it. Her legs tightened around Willow’s waist as the tension continued to build.

The sounds coming from her mouth were barely recognizable. She felt unrecognizable; the feelings and sensations Willow was dragging from her were unlike anything she’d ever experienced.  And her magic! Her magic was swirling inside her like a tornado; both pleasurable and painful, deepening to the overall sensations overtaking her body. It was almost too much! But she also knew that to stop didn’t seem possible. Unbeknownst to both women, the glow began to surround them, enclosing them inside their own magical bubble.

As her body undulated underneath her soon-to-be –lover, she gasped from the pull of Willow’s mouth on her nipple, and then she groaned from the sharpness of Willow’s teeth when she lightly bit and tugged on her now engorged nub. But then she practically screamed in frustration when the red-head lifted her head and began planting suckling kisses down her abdomen. She gasped again when Willow started to slowly rim her navel, which she suddenly discovered was sensitive. Meanwhile Willow’s hands molded and massaged the blonde’s supple thighs, before moving to firmly cup and fondle Narcissa’s bottom.

Nuzzling into Narcissa’s soft curls, she inhaled the scent of her delicious arousal, groaning as some of the wetness began to coat her chin, lips, even her the tip of her nose. She allowed one hand to curl around the blonde’s hip to finger Narcissa’s wet and distended lips and then helpfully spread her open for Willow’s tongue to slowly lap and dabble at the wetness collected there.

“Oh goddess! Willow! What are yo—“ Lucius rarely exhibited a moment of selflessness in the bedroom; with him, it was all about procreation and being a Pureblood husband. It didn’t allow for a lot imagination- at least not with her.

Plus Narcissa rarely bottomed the few dalliances she’d had throughout the years, so she’d never had the opportunity to experience someone’s lips and tongue devouring her cunt the way Willow was currently doing.  Hence the reason a scream echoed throughout the room as the red-head’s tongue speared inside her causing her to involuntarily clench down and squeeze around the muscle. After a few thrusts that placed her right on the edge of something that she felt certain would blow her apart, Willow retracted her tongue only to lap her way up to her quaking nub which had become so engorge with blood that its hood had pulled back, allowing its uber-sensitive head to peak out.

Her own hands hadn’t remained idle; one was had moved its way up, cupping her breast, before gripping her still-sensitive nipple, the other remained wrapped in Willow’s hair, tugging her head even closer to her center, practically smearing her juices all over Willow’s face. She wanted to watch, but when Willow’s tongue wrapped itself around her swollen nub, causing her to almost sit up in luscious agony, her head felt too heavy, falling back as her eyes clenched shut.

As Willow’s tongue began to lash at the tip while she hotly sucked the entire organ in her mouth, Narcissa cried out, her body violently undulating, practically tossing the red-head off.  Her upper-body fell back onto the couch, the sounds of Willow hungrily tasting her was raw and feral. Suddenly her clit seized up for a moment, as the tension coalesced in her core only to split apart when Willow nibbled and whipped her tongue across the sensitive bead of clit, setting off a series of spasms, and another scream to erupt from Narcissa as the orgasm exploded from deep inside her.

“Willow! Oh fuck!” The expletive would’ve surely surprised Narcissa since she prided herself on rarely using them, but nothing about this moment was in her control; all of it was in Willow’s hands.

When suddenly Willow pushed three fingers inside her now throbbing and slightly spasming cunt, like catching the tail of a comet, it set off an even more powerful orgasm, building upon her earlier one, as her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Yet at the same time the room grew bright, almost distracting them. Narcissa’s hand had moved from her breast to hold onto her lover’s shoulder, nails now digging into the muscle until they left little half-moons of blood.

The sting barely registered to Willow. If she’d opened her eyes at that moment, Narcissa would have seen them completely white, with a slight green emanating along the edges. Willow’s other hand remained cupped firmly on Narcissa’s bottom to keep her heaving body in place. She barely noticed the almost too-hot sensation emanating from her palm.

Even as the terrible orgasms crashed through her, she could barely acknowledge the now golden-greenish glow radiating throughout the room, but centered from their bodies, particularly where they were touching. The almost too-warm heat emitting from Willow’s palm on her left ass-cheek only seemed to add to the orgasms lashing inside her. The magical glow continued, curling along the older witch’s bones, until it felt as if something  hot, yet weirdly… tingly was burrowing itself into her marrow like a brand. Nothing seemed to matter, especially as Willow continued to cork-screw her fingers in and out of her now gushing pussy, or as her lips and tongue continued to lash and swirl over her too-sensitive clit. However she was aware enough to see Willow’s hair turn white, followed by black, and then red again.

Finally, after seemingly an hour later, when it had only been a few moments, the orgasms dimmed, becoming more manageable, allowing her some lucidity. She could only sob and moan as the after-quakes continued to wrack her body. Thankfully Willow lifted her lips from her now incredibly too-sensitive clit; her mouth and chin slick with her juices.  Lifting her wet fingers to her mouth, she made a mental promise to get every drop next time; her lover was utterly delicious.

Gently, Willow removed her fingers from her lover’s body while she planted gentling kisses along her mound, up to Narcissa’s stomach, allowing her body to slide up all the way up to share a gentle kiss on Narcissa’s still panting mouth.  Now lying between her lover’s thighs, Willow cuddled and nuzzled along Narcissa’s neck. Even though her body was still humming from arousal, it had… calmed somewhat, because if she were honest, it felt as if she’d peaked along with Narcissa. Even her magic was quiet, sated, and the feeling of contentment was creeping along her shoulders.

Narcissa was hers and her magic had made sure of it.

However it didn’t mean she wasn’t unaware of the potential explosive immediate future or that her older lover wasn’t equally concerned. “Are you… ok?”

Once again Narcissa found herself in unfamiliar territory, her body wrapped around her younger lover, as she assessed her body, magic, and the… moment. Something had just occurred, something that may have bonded her to Willow, and even as she mentally acknowledged this, her magic seemed to gurgle happily inside her. Negligently running her hand gently through Willow’s red mane, she suddenly remembered the color-cycle her lover went through earlier.

“So would you care to tell me what just happened?”

Sighing, Willow shifted to the side of Narcissa’s body, and propped her head on her hand. She had to quell the fierce sense of satisfaction from appearing on her face at the blonde’s well-loved body.

Laying a possessive hand on her lover’s stomach, she simply answered. “I’m not sure. “ She leaned over to lay a kiss on Narcissa’s shoulder to buy a little time for a better well-thought out response. “But I’m a good researcher with a history of the unexplainable happening around me.”

Narcissa slowly sat up, her thick blonde locks fall around her. “Well… you might want to narrow your search around Bonds.”

This time it was Narcissa who allowed herself to take a thorough look at Willow’s form as she stared at her. And what she saw was… very appealing. Slightly smaller than Narcissa, but it was clear that Willow maintained an active lifestyle. Gentle curves gave way to defined sleek musculature. She reminded Narcissa of a Hollyhead Harpies’ quidditch player she once slept with. Athletic, lithesome, with a great deal of endurance, but Willow’s creamy skin was flushed pink with arousal seemed to be emitting some kind of inner-glow. She knew she should be thinking about returning to the Manor, but with her body still humming from the after-quakes still coursing through her body, Narcissa could only revel in the banked lust in those darkened pools of green.

Pressing another kiss to Narcissa’s swollen lips, Willow gently guided to blonde onto her back. She then smoothed her hand down Narcissa’s arm, until she clasped her hand. Still staring heatedly into her eyes, Willow brought Narcissa’s fingers to her lips, pressing light kisses to their tips, before swirling her tongue slowly around them until they shined. Utterly captivated, caught up in Willow’s web of erotic seduction, she could only watch as she brought her hand to her lower-abdomen, smoothing her fingers along her clenched stomach, down until she reached Willow’s sodden curls.

Narcissa could only breathe heavily as she watched her fingers disappear into Willow’s cunt, gliding along the red-head’s wet, swollen slit. Shifting herself to perch on Narcissa’s hips, her head wanted to tip back in pleasure as Narcissa started to take matters into her own hands. But for some reason Willow liked the control of working the blonde’s fingers into her pussy, smearing her juices all over them, right before she turned Narcissa’s hand, palm-up and started to slowly shove three fingers inside her wet cunt. At the added sensation of pressure and fullness, not to mention the sensitive tissues inside her grasping channel being stroked, Willow knew she might not last long.

Shifting her body until she could comfortably assist her lover in cumming all over her fingers, Narcissa could only whimper as Willow squeezed and rippled around her fingers. Eyes still locked, it only added to the elevating tension and pleasure, even though Willow’s were slitted in pleasure. But nothing short of a Death Eater attack inside the room could prevent Narcissa from removing her eyes from the vision above her.

Hips rolling and grinding, Willow moaned loudly when the tip of Narcissa’s fingers pressed on a roughened patch of tissues inside. “Yesss! Now use your thumb sweetie.” Willow huskily ordered.

And that inner-glow seemed to illuminate even brighter, but instead of it blinding her eyes, it seemed to encase both witches, as if in a protective bubble. None of that mattered as Narcissa’s thumb began to circle Willow’s clit, strumming the sensitive tissues peeking out from underneath the protective hood.

“Oh goddess! Fuck!” Once again, Narcissa whipped her thumb along protruding clit, while plunging her fingers in and out of her red-headed lover. “Yes, just like that!”

Willow rode those fingers, her hand still gripping Narcissa’s around her wrist, as the tension built quickly, her magic whipping and swirling around inside her, making her hair run through its colorful track of red-white-black-and-red again. Narcissa reached around Willow’s waist with her other arm, holding the witch in place as she started to buck more wildly, squeezing down tighter on her fingers. Using her own stomach muscles to lift her upper-body up, allowed her to hotly suck in one of her Willow’s straining nipples.

Willow’s free hand wrapped tightly around Narcissa’s neck, her fingers to combing through and clenched around strands of Narcissa’s thick blonde hair, holding her mouth tightly to her chest.  Narcissa’s tongue circled and lapped Willow’s erect nipples and when that hot mouth bit down on the rigid nub, after a particularly hard thrust inside Willow’s cunt, even as her thumb pressed down hard on her engorged clit, caused the red-head to erupt fiercely.

Almost smothering Narcissa’s face in her breasts, Willow could only explode, almost howling in terrible pleasure; her cunt began a rhythmic tightening along Narcissa’s fingers, as her juices gushed out around them, coating the blonde’s stomach. Trembling, Willow bucked and rolled her way through the orgasm.

“I’m cumming, cumming, cummi—“ Willow was cut off as another strong wave coursed through her body, stirring up her magic; magic that was rippling along Narcissa’s skin causing mini-explosions in her own already sensitive body.

At one point, one contraction had squeezed down so hard that Narcissa wondered if her fingers would be of any use for the rest of the day.  Mouthing her way up Willow’s sternum, pausing to suckle on Willow’s pulse-point until it became a deep-red. Briefly pulling back, her eyes gleamed in satisfaction at her mark. Choosing to ignore any further internal examination of why, she continued kissing and sucking her way up to Willow’s delectable mouth.

Deeply kissing her red-headed witch, it was clear that Willow was still insensate with the residual orgasm. Finally, after some time, tongues gently battling, the sensations began to taper off. With some wincing, Willow helped Narcissa gently extract her fingers, shivering as she inadvertently rubbed over too-sensitive tissues. They both watched as the older witch brought her hand up for inspection, as she tried to stretch out the cramped digits. Looking somewhat moisture-logged, Narcissa marveled at the thoroughly soaked hand.

Wide-eyed, Willow looked somewhat bashful. “Wow!”

Rolling her eyes, Narcissa gave a small grin. “Indeed.” And with that, this time she began lapping up the essence coating her fingers. 


	35. Chapter 35

 

**_Narcissa's New Worry_ **

_Council Happenings Elsewhere_

It was a half-hour later when Giles had hung up the phone, completing a call with the Director of MI6’s Secret Division of Supernatural or SDS to almost everyone else. He’d been updating her about the latest news on the impending Wizarding war, until he was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise at a nearby window. When he saw it was a large owl, he began to wonder if he needed to grab Mrs. Malfoy, whom he’d been alerted had arrived on the premises earlier today, or Willow, before dealing with whatever correspondence was wrapped around its leg. Awkwardly looking around the room, he cleared his throat before simply asking it who it was for. “I’m assuming you have a message. Is it for Willow, Mrs. Malfory?”

The bird violently flapped its wings before sticking out its leg with the rolled up message in his direction. Nervously, he removed his glasses to polish them, before replacing them. “Ah, I see. It is for me?”

This time the bird hopped closer to Giles with its leg elevated. Gingerly reaching over, he removed the parchment, stealing another look at the bird, as it calmly shifted a bit before settling down. Shaking his head, Giles simply unrolled the letter and read it. Eyes widening, he quickly strode back to his desk to press a button on his phone. “Jonathan can you locate Buffy and send her to my office please. ASAP!”

After some thought, he pressed another button. “Yes, can you also locate Mrs. Malfoy, and bring her here as well. Thank you. No! That will be all Jonathan!”

Buffy had been on her way to visit with Giles, after coming from Willow’s room, only to learn she had a guest: a certain Mrs. Malfoy. “Hey Watcher-oh-mine. What’s the what? And what’s with Willow’s Witchy-Desperate Housewives?” As Giles desperately tried to decipher Buffy’s incessant need for destroying the English language, he watched as the blonde Slayer gracefully threw herself onto his couch.

When Narcissa entered the room a few moment later, he found himself straightening, wiping his palms on his slacks, before realizing that his Slayer was smirking at him. “And what’s with the owl? More witchy-mail?”

Choosing to ignore his Slayer’s questioning for the moment, he answered. “Thank you both for being here. This matter concerns you the most Narcissa and I will need your… council on the next steps, as I’m sure you will imagine.”

Handing over the message to both Narcissa and Buffy, he watched as both women’s eyes widen as they read it. Narcissa grew rigid and immediately stood up. Buffy had only heard in passing about that “crazy-evil Bellatrix” or “evil bint Death-muncher,” so she was aware that she didn’t have the necessary information to make an informed opinion. But her initial thoughts were that if they could save the likes of Angel or Spike, and to some extent Willow or Faith, then Bellatrix should also be given the chance.

However, she became alarmed as she watched Narcissa’s eyes began to water, and sparks of intermittent green-colored lights emanated from her, along with various books around the room began to rattle. It was only due to Narcissa’s infamous iron-clad control that prevented them from falling.

Somewhat calming herself moments later, she approached Giles, laying a hand on his arm, as she stared intently at him. “Please. There have been far too few chances for my sister… to save my sister. If there is any way…any way at all to help her, I beseech you to do so now.”

Both Giles and Buffy shared a long look before, he gently clasped the blonde witch by the arms, and steered her towards the couch. “I must ask you and you must be truthful with me, Ms. Black. If we take your sister on, you must tell us **everything** ; starting with your family.”

Slightly blanching, Narcissa steeled herself, and straightened her shoulders, gaining the admiration of the Head of the New Council and even the Queen of Slayers. “ **Whatever** it takes, Mr. Giles. I would see my sister saved at last.”

“Very well. Buffy would you please contact Rowena, I suspect we’ll need her services.” He returned his attention to Narcissa as he pulled pen and paper to respond to Minerva’s message. “Ms. Black, until we can ascertain Bellatrix’s state-of-mind, it would be best to limit your interactions with her until we can get her settled.”

Nodding, Narcissa gave a watery smile to both Giles and Buffy. “Thank you. Many people had written her off a long time ago… I’ve tried to—but I…” Thickly swallowing, Giles and Buffy watched as Narcissa gathered herself, the aristocratic, icy-image she showed the public coming over her. “I am indebted to you and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black never shirks its responsibilities.”  Striding to the door, she paused. “Please let me know how I can be of further assistance. I have to return to the Manor. Draco is returning home soon.”

Buffy watched as she left the room before redirecting her attention to Giles as he finished placing his return-message on the owl’s leg. “So…. All hands-on-deck? How long before the arrival of witch-most-evil-and-of-the-suffering?”

“Really Buffy, must you completely throttle the English language?!”

The eldest Slayer simply laughed before starting for the door. “Let me know when she’s near so I can be nearby. Make sure Rowena and couple of other witches are on-hand, just in case this Bella-chick is jankey. I’ll bring a couple more Slayers and contact Will too.”

 

**

Narcissa leaned against the door, her hand clutched to her chest as if to keep her heart from thrashing its way out. Once again, tears stung her eyes, and at that moment she felt… overwhelmed; from memories regarding her sister, to Willow. The need to sob, to scream out all the tension and stress she’d been dealing with, along with betrayal after betrayal, and… anger, incensed fury she’d kept locked deep inside suddenly wanted out. She mindlessly found her feet moving in one direction, unwittingly seeking sanctuary. When she came back to the familiar door, before she could knock it opened and there stood Willow.

Surprise, followed by concerned was immediately etched upon her delicate features, and she could barely hear over the roaring in her ears, as she asked, “What happened?! Are you ok? Wh--”

Suddenly, Willow found her arms filled with a distraught blonde witch as Narcissa threw herself into Willow’s arms. Immediately Willow shut the door to give her lover some discretion as she sobbed her tears into the younger witch’s neck. After getting them onto the couch, Willow simply held the blonde, gently rocking and combing her fingers through her silky blonde hair, as Narcissa continued to fall apart.  Willow suspected that this had been a long time in coming and she felt… privileged that the older witch thought her trustworthy enough to let go. She also felt extremely concerned and distressed at seeing Narcissa’s brokenness, even if it was temporary. The Bond had thickened even though it had only been an hour or so since they’d made love.

The feeling of protectiveness grew stronger within Willow as her own chest grew tight and heavy; she wanted to take away Narcissa’s pain, and seek out whoever did this to her. Had she’d been sitting in front of a mirror; she’d have seen her eyes emanating a glowing blue light. Narrowing her gaze over the blonde witch’s shoulder, she wondered what had happened in Giles’ office. Briefly closing her eyes, she casted a small spell, and her astral-self stood up from her body, through Narcissa’s heaving form to stand. Both Willows nodded at the other before the Astral-Willow disappeared and then reappeared in Giles’ office, once again startling him, sending the tea he was about to sip, spilling onto his shirt.

“Willow! I do wish--”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Astral-Willow glaring at him.  She turned towards the huge flat-screen TV and suddenly the news playing in the background faded to black and the words, “What did you do to Narcissa?!”

Again he was interrupted from answering when Buffy, followed by Vi, another Slayer from Michigan named Blake, plus two of Willow’s mages Samantha and Celeste, followed by Rowena. When Buffy noticed Astral-Willow, “Hey, Real-Willow is supposed to be here, not Ghost-Will.”

Frowning in confusion, this time the word, “Huh?” showed up on the screen.

Once Giles finished polishing his glasses and then returned them to his face, he was finally allowed to get a word in. “Yes, I was about to update Willow of Mrs. Malfoy’s sister impending arrival.”

Looking even more confused, she responded, “But Andromeda is always here.”

This time Rowena answered. “Not that sister.”

 Eyes widening, Willow nodded. “I’ll be right back. I mean the ‘real’ me.” And with that Astral-Willow disappeared.

When her essence settled back into her body, Narcissa had wound down enough that she was now silently crying, her tears soaking the red-head’s neck and shirt. Leaning her head down to affectionately nuzzle and kiss her forehead, Willow put her hand out to ‘call’ a box of tissues to her. After giving her allowing her a few moments to briefly clean up, Narcissa brushed away another tear, before haltingly raising her reddened, watery eyes to Willow’s.

“I must look a fright.”

Gently brushing her lips against the older witch’s, Willow shook her head. “Actually, I don’t think you could ever be **not** beautiful. Sad, slightly broken, but always beautiful. At least to me.” Tenderly brushing a blonde lock of hair behind her delicate ear, Willow once again, leaned over to brush a chaste, but tender kiss on the older witch’s lips.

The tender act almost caused Narcissa to lose control over her emotions again. But only because it been so long since anyone had shown the kind of care and affection that this younger witch was illustrating. Granted they had just spent the afternoon becoming intimately acquainted with each other, perhaps even going so far as to set off a chain reaction that would bond them together for longer than either had anticipated.  It was the moments outside of sex that were equally potent and surprising deepening their connection. Steadily staring at Willow, Narcissa began to gain her equilibrium. “My sister Bellatrix is arriving soon. Apparently, she is being granted asylum by your Council.” She stated without a hint of inflection.

“Ok. More than a few of us have done the redemption thing. There’s no better place for it.” Willow waited a few moments to allow Narcissa to process her statement. “Is that why… are you ok about it?”

Narcissa realized that few people would bother asking her that question. It caused her eyes to once again, become watery. “One would think so. But… Bella… represents so many…” she thickly swallowed before continuing. “Most had given up on her and when she returned from that completely botched Department of Mysteries mission, I thought I’d lost any progress…”

But then her eyes hardened, fury filling their icy-blue depths, until they almost turned black. “A lot of people failed my sister…. And that… monster, vile monster… once he got his tentacles into Bella, it was if she had become _something_ else. Something beyond love, beyond human decency… and he provoked… at every turn! She was no longer the sister we grew up with. So if Bella’s defection causes him some pain and she becomes my sister again...”

With that, Willow pulled the older witch into her arms, holding her tightly against her chest. “Well then she’s come to the right place. And… you’re not alone… you know, you’ll have me. And I mean me, as in just Willow, and maybe the witch, but not like a witch like you, more like with the Wiccan-ness, but then--”

Suddenly Willow’s infamous babble was interrupted by fingers pressed against her lips and reddened, but amused and awed blue eyes glittered back at her. “Thank you for your ever so elucidate explanation, but I believe no additional… words are necessary.” She smirked at the endearing blush growing upon Willow’s skin.

Willow found herself rolling her eyes in self-deprecation. Sighing, she shook her head slightly. “I mean… I think… I’m yours.” She finished with growing certainty.

At that, her own magic bubbled with happiness and this time Narcissa was the one to initiate a kiss. 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A/N: Again, thank you for your patience. This story has developed a life of its own, which is perhaps a good thing. But it also means trying to whittle down the needless details and that some chapters flow better than others. Anyways, thank you for the wonderful feedback; it has been constructive and supportive, and absolutely needed.
> 
> A/N: Updates of Water Lily will be coming soon, plus a new story that's been in the works featuring The Hollows/BTVS. As always, thank you sincerely for your patience.

 

**From the Bottom Up**

_Bellatrix's Arrival_

When Bellatrix and Minerva _Apparated_ onto the Council grounds, they were met by a group of young women, and an older male. Bellatrix’s eyes widened as she recognized the red-head from the Department of Mysteries botched mission. A short blonde woman, power oozing from her pores, stepped forward, greeted Minerva, before staring intently at Bellatrix.

“Welcome to the New Council of Slayers, Watchers, and Witches or the New Council. I’m Buffy, the Head Slayer and this,” she gestured to the only male in the group, “is Giles the President, the red-head to my right is--”

“Not another one of Weasley’s whelps, is she?” Bellatrix muttered, not knowing about Slayer’s superior hearing.

“Aahh, not sure who Weasley is, but no. She’s a Willow; our Willow and someone whose bad-side I’d keep away from. She’s head of Research and all things magical. I’m guessing by now, Will’s already covered you with ‘net’, preventing you from attacking anyone with magic.”  Instead of being slightly nervous when being introduced to new people, Willow simply watched Bellatrix as if waiting for her to make a move. A ‘wrong’ move.

Noticing the Willow-glare, Buffy lightly nudged the red-head from her threatening stare-off. Giles directed his attention to Minerva. “Hello Headmistress. Welcome, both of you. If you’ll follow us, we’ll get you settled and inform you of the process Ms. Black will be immediately undergoing.”

Shifting his attention back to Bellatrix, he held up his hand. “However, I need to ask: are you ready to be strong?”

As if a switch had been thrown, a little of Bellatrix the Death Eater shown through her countenance as she took a menacing step forward, causing Buffy and Willow to shift protectively near Giles. And with a hint of her usual mischievousness, she suddenly jumped at them, shouting, “Boo!” startling everyone into defensive battle postures, while Willow’s eyes darkened with a deeper menace.

Rolling her eyes, Bella relaxed. “I have more strength than you can imagine and I don’t need a wand to show it. Would you like me to prove it?!”

Giles held up his hand to settle everyone down. “Oh, I am quite sure you a great deal of strength. But I suspect the type of strength I’m referring to will not be the kind you imagine. Nevertheless, I need your consent.”

Bellatrix locked eyes with him, measuring him even as she started to probe him through the use of _Legilimency_ , only to have her magic stall. Indignant, she shifted her gaze to the red-head witch, until she remembered the dampening spell. Folding her arms across her chest in a fit of pique, it took some effort to halt the surge of instantaneous fury that often accompanied any instance when she was prevented from doing something she wanted.

But then she remembered those last few moments at the Manor, seeing what the Dark Lord had become, when things became so… murky and dark. Mentally stomping her foot, she sighed heavily. “Fine. You have my consent.”

Nodding his head at Rowena, who stepped forward in front of Bellatrix she calmly assessed the dark witch in front of her. “Hello Bellatrix. My name is Rowena and I am the Head Priestess of the Devonshire Coven. You will become our guest for the foreseeable future.”

Bellatrix had heard about this Coven, one of the most powerful in Western Europe. Many of her compatriots had dismissed Wiccan magic, but like most things related to magic, Bellatrix had been fascinated. The Black library had a few books related to Wiccan magic, particularly dark magic. But once Bellatrix fell into Voldemort’s hands, she’d had little to time further her knowledge. 

With a gentle smile, Rowena reached up to place her fingertips on Bellatrix’s forehead. Her eyes closed as she began to silently chant. A brief glow emanated from her fingers to melt into Bellatrix’s forehead. When Rowena opened her eyes, they’d grown dark. She let out a loud gasp as she removed her fingertips. Her knees suddenly grew momentarily weak; Giles and Buffy immediately grasped her upper-arms to help settle her.

Finally, swallowing heavily, Rowena’s eyes cleared to became their normal, yet solemn hazel color. “I think it is safe to say that the sooner we begin the cleansing, the sooner we can save your life.”

Bellatrix was momentarily stunned at the pronouncement, but then she grew resigned. Her life had not been… kind and the darkness had become like a cancer. But before she could ruminate further, a ‘pop’ sounded nearby and Narcissa appeared.

“Bella!”

Bellatrix looked almost accusingly at the assembled group, “When were you going to tell me my sister was here?!” she hissed.

Before anyone could answer, Bella found her arms filled with her sister as she wrapped her up in a hug. Normally Narcissa was very… careful about public displays of affection when it concerned Bellatrix. But Narcissa had been overcome with hope and…love for a sister she thought long gone. Moving back to allow her some space as she looked over her underweight sister, Narcissa stared almost disbelieving at Bellatrix’s presence here.

Narcissa suddenly worried about what would send Bella running from the Manor and cause her to defect from her “beloved” Dark Lord. But she pushed the thought aside to focus on her sister. The youngest Black sister hugged her again, to Bellatrix’s exasperation.

Gently cupping Bella’s face, “I hope to have my sister returned to me once again.”

Instinctively turning towards her red-haired lover, she narrowed her eyes in warning. “Take care of her.”

Willow only just managed to not squirm under that infamously bossy gaze; the gaze that turned her on and dampened her fresh set of panties. And with all these Slayer noses around her, she would be mortified if they caught her scent.

“Of course. It turns out that we have some… experience with this kind of thing. Trust me.” When Narcissa simply stared into Willow’s eyes, assessing the truth of her statement, ignoring the suddenly curious (and Bellatrix’s suspiciously protective) looks from the assembled group.

Nodding, Narcissa redirected her attention towards her sister. “I’ll be sure to visit just as soon as Draco gets home from school.”

At that, the former Death Eater’s eyes grew wide in abject terror, right before Bellatrix’s body suddenly tensed up, lunging to tightly grip her sister’s shoulders, startling the group into defensive mode. “No! You cannot return to the Manor, Cissy! Never!”

Stunned silence met her pronouncement. And suddenly Narcissa began to refocus on her earlier musings regarding why Bella left the Dark Lord’s side. 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'd promised myself that I'd 'gift' myself and my devoted followers of this story with an update. I realize that it has been awhile since my last one, I can only contritely say that it's been a rough few months, making it hard for my muse to give me any love. So I'm hoping this update will make up for my dismal efforts. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and as always I'm continually inspired by all the feedback and kudos. Thank you!

The Time is Not Right

*A/N As always, feedback is VERY much appreciated!

 ***

They found themselves in what was affectionately called the Scooby War Room with Bellatrix pacing, her magic sparking like angry fireflies from her body. Internally Narcissa was practically writhing in fear and distress for her son. She knew he would be leaving Hogwarts in two days to return home for the holidays. But now they had to figure out how to essentially ‘extract’ her son before any of Voldemort’s minions, much less the Dark Lord himself, caught on.

The… story that Bellatrix told of Voldemort’s new upgrade while alarming, was certainly not unusual for the Council. Of course, having a powerful wizard suddenly imbued with demon blood was disconcerting. For Purebloods like Bellatrix and Narcissa these latest developments was unheard of and unspeakable, and went against everything they’d believed in, or had been taught: which was blood-purity. For all of the Dark Lord’s pureblood rallying cry, to allow himself and other Pureblood’s to become tainted with vampire blood, would be synonymous in allowing Fenrir to infect them with werewolf blood.

Very soon, if not already, Voldemort had begun to realize that Narcissa was no longer returning to the Manor, to their ranks, and was likely looking to punish the remaining Black-Malfoy members – including the Fake-Bellatrix, and Draco. Considering she hadn’t seen hide or hair of her husband within the past two weeks, Narcissa had begun to believe that either he was already dead, being kept in the dungeons for ‘entertainment,’ or now, given the recent developments something more sinister had befallen him.

Narcissa had stopped being… marginally worried from the moment she’d been told that Draco was to have a place in Voldemort’s army. Feeling a growing sense of anguish and intense concern for her son, Narcissa stood up, startling everyone in the room.

“Sitting here discussing strategy will not save my son! The Hogwarts’ train should be leaving within 48 hours. I must somehow get to him before anyone else does.”

Her wand began to give off intermittent sparks as the intensity of her emotions grew. Willow so wanted to go over to and enfold Narcissa in her arms. But she couldn’t be sure how… or what they were and somehow she suspected that her attentions wouldn’t be welcomed.

“Ok! So we need to figure out how to save Drake--” Buffy was briefly interrupted by Narcissa.

“Draco!”

Rolling her eyes, the blonde Slayer continued. “...Draco without the Baddies realizing it. That about sum it up?”  
  
“Oh! I have it! A gole--” “A golem might do it.” While it was slightly unnerving that it would be Willow and Bellatrix coming up with the solution at the same time, it also spoke to their reputed power and brilliance.

Giles had removed his glasses for their perpetual polishing, while Buffy, Rona, and Vi looked confused, Rowena look contemplative. Dawn, who’d just joined them, looked momentarily startled before nodding her head. Narcissa simply looked skeptical.

Buffy tentatively raised her hand. “For those of us who don’t speak witch-speak 101, can you clue us in?”

Narcissa responded. “It is considered dark magic, but obviously like all magic, it is about intention. Essentially you create a creature from an inanimate object shaped to be an exact physical copy of someone. And if the spellcaster is powerful enough, they can even imbue it with the ability to use minor magic, enough to fool those who aren’t looking too closely.”

Excitedly Willow chimed in. “Exactly. It is derived from Jewish lore, I believe a rabbi from Prague--”

“Got it Will, no need for the dissertation.” Buffy said with fond exasperation. “So a replica of someone else. That should work, right? How long would it take to make one?”

This time it was Bellatrix who answered. “That is the only problem. It takes at least two weeks to create the potion. In the meantime, Draco cannot return home.”

Buffy, Giles, Dawn, and even Rowena snuck a look at their in-house magical expert, shifting the attention of Bellatrix and Narcissa to stare confusingly at Willow, who simply blushed at the sudden stares. Sighing deeply, she answered. “I think I might be able to speed things up. And without a potion too.”

Bella scoffed. “That is impossible. This isn’t some simple earth spell of herbs and smoke mud-muggle. This is complex spellweaving.”

Normally Narcissa might be inclined to step in and warn her sister about impending danger. But sneaking a look at her… lover, knowing her true identity within the magical community, even in Britain, she decided it would do Bellatrix some good to be brought down a notch or two. Sitting back slightly, as she shifted comfortably, Narcissa watched as Willow’s eyebrow rose high, and her eyes darken slightly.

Willow held up her hand at Vi, Rona, and Dawn’s indignation on her behalf, while Buffy simply sat back to watch the fireworks, wishing she had popcorn. “Perhaps, we should have done proper introductions. While my name is Willow Rosenberg, I understand I’ve been branded with another moniker: the Red Witch.” Willow internally grew slightly smug as she watched Bellatrix grow pale before continuing on. “So I probably will be able to come up with something sooner than two weeks.”

Buffy snorted. “Ah yeah! Listen crazy witch, I bet our witch against your witchiness any day of the week.”

This time it was Giles chiming in, hoping to redirect the conversation back to the urgent matter at hand. Having two powerful witches posturing wasn’t exactly conducive to the discussion or the issue. It was also essential to avoid any and all triggers for Willow because while Bellatrix Black might have had the reputation for being ruthless, cruel, and powerful, Giles was willing to bet that she’d have no frame of reference or means of dealing with White-Willow, much less Dark Willow.

As for the red-headed Wiccan, the urge to flare Power, her Power was strong, not to mention the constant Darkness wanted to crush this witch into nothing for her insolence. But Willow had learned to be a more humble, compassionate person, her path towards redemption never ending. After all, until Bellatrix truly began her own journey towards redemption, thereby becoming somewhat trustworthy, it wouldn’t do to illustrate just how powerful Willow really was.

“Nevertheless, Narcissa if you would be so kind as to give us a detailed run-down of Draco’s imminent departure time and day, his friends and associates, as well as a contact person within Hogwarts if Professor McGonagall is not appropriate.” Buffy had switched to General-mode, dropping her faux, slightly ditzy, California blonde act , in order to begin finalizing details for Operation Rescue Drake.

“I still think it wouldn’t hurt to utilize Professor McGonagall since she is the Deputy Headmistress. At the very least she could assist in discreetly organizing our efforts on the departure side.” Rowena suggested.

At that Bellatrix rolled her eyes once she stopped glaring at Willow. “If it were any other Gryffindor, I’d absolutely say no, but since it’s McGonagall that might work.”

This time it was Narcissa who pinned Bella with a glare with a huff of irritation. “Really Bella! We don’t have time for your pureblood-inter-house ridiculousness! After all it was this kind nonsense that has brought us to this point, endangering my boy!”

Immediately, Bella launched to her feet in anger. “No, it was Lucy who got you into this mess! All while you--”

It was Dawn who slapped a large tome down onto the table, stopping the sibling squabbling in its tracks. “I don’t know about you ladies, but it seems we are missing the point of the initial discussion. Which is rather crazy since it’s only your son, and your nephew’s life on the line.” Then she smiled, shrugging indifferently. “But hey, if you all wanna hash out old shit instead of figuring out how to rescue Drakie, then be my guest.”

Rowena dipped her head to hide her amusement, while Buffy and Rona let out barks of laughter. Following that and much glaring from Bellatrix, they managed to come up with a tentative plan to rescue Draco. Research, then Willow will figure out some complex magical game-plan, and then they’d arrive at Hogsmeade to essentially meet up or snatch Draco, activate his golem replacement, and then bring Draco to Council headquarters. Meanwhile, Narcissa had decided to send Draco an owl, directing him to pick-up something right before he got onto the train in Hogsmeade.

It had been decided to not tell Draco that they were going to rescue him for his own safety. It would be better for him (and others) to believe life was continuing on as usual. In addition, Faith would tail him from Hogwarts to the extraction point to ensure his safety. It was a good plan, but as with all things magic, Scoobies, and Slayers it’d be good to have a back-up plan.  


	38. Chapter 38

Hermione's Identity Transference

***

Hermione’s emerging Animagus was beyond anything she’d expected and she could not complete her full training without McGonagall. Granted she had been given a solid beginning via Merlin and Helga. But Helga was not an Animagus and Merlin would not reveal enough information about his Animagus, claiming he didn’t want to give any undue influence on Hermione’s evolving Animagus magic. So they had both urged Hermione to complete her training with her Professor, since McGonagall was one of the Wizarding world’s foremost authority on Animagus magic. In addition, Helga and Merlin pronounced Minerva McGonagall to be a worthy and powerful witch, a suitable mentor to their charge. Finally, it went without saying that Hermione seemed to merging with her Beast at an accelerated rate and that this Beast was a magical creature.

Naturally the Animagus professor had been delighted and so before the whole terrible business with Umbridge and the subsequent DoM battle, Professor McGonagall had begun teaching her in earnest. The training often left Hermione utterly exhausted by the end of the week. Between classes, studying, training with Merlin and Helga, keeping Harry and Ron out of trouble, and now additional hours with the Head of Gryffindor, it was all Hermione could do to stay awake at times. After several grueling weeks, Hermione believed her… _Beast_ , for lack of a better word, had started to manifest itself in weird ways.

McGonagall found these manifestations as puzzling as Hermione, although she agreed with her cub that it was her Animagus Beast making itself known. It had begun with the dreams; the sensation as if she were running a high temperature, but that this heat wasn’t harmful – it was almost like an intense itch that she couldn’t get to, but could be relieved by more heat – like feeling an intense pleasurable sensation of hot water running over a rash. Sometimes she’d waken up soaked in sweat, panting puffs of air that seemed as hot as steam coming out of a boiler. Or at least that was what it had felt like… and then there was her reaction around water. Her skin had become increasingly sensitive the longer she was exposed in the water.

The Gryffindor was reminded of that first time she attempted to take a long soak during her Animagus training. She’d been ignoring her body’s increasing sensitivity around moisture, making her fidgety and anxious. The sensations disappeared the moment she was no longer submerged in water. But she’d had such a long and grueling week that she knew a long, hot soak in the huge Prefect’s bathing room would be just the thing her body needed. At first the heat felt divine, but then the heat continued to build until the water began to bubble. She’d begun staring wide-eyed, trying to process what she was seeing, trying to rationalize why the water seemed to be boiling, but she’d remained unaffected. This was made more noticeable when she removed an arm from the water and her skin felt cool to the touch, even slightly cold. She’d frantically looked around for something to use to measure the temperature of the water, to validate what she was seeing and feeling.

Using wandless magic, a towel flew into her hand, while her other hand grabbed her wand to charm the object into something she could use. Thinking for a moment, she decided on charming the towel into a small kettle. Dipping into the water to fill it up, she’d then gave another wave of her wand to spell the kettle to float in the pool of water. It was only after a few seconds that the loud piercing sound of water boiling within the kettle that Hermione began to really become… concerned.

Almost leaping out of the water, her hair laid in thick, wet strands along her shoulders and face, she’d simply stood staring at the steadily calming waters.  Finally, Hermione was forced (although not really) to remember that night she’d been with Faith. Even though during those moments her Beast’s manifestations hadn’t registered, it didn’t detract from the further signs of her Beast: brilliant and unusual red skin or the tingling heat in her eyes. Hermione was a witch who sought answers, loved gaining knowledge so when something didn’t add up she felt compelled to find answers. She wasn’t known as the “brightest witch of her age” for nothing.  Although Hermione thought that was a ridiculous moniker – she was certain that a few in Ravenclaw more than rivaled her intellect.

So it was with this so-called vaunted intellect, coupled with her thirst for knowledge that prompted her to slowly reach down and dip a finger back into the water. At first nothing happened, but then like sponge soaking up moisture, a reaction began to occur. And that was when she realized that her Animagus, her Beast was making an appearance. At first the water grew still and quiet, and then the water began to churn and bubble. Wide-eyed, Hermione watched as her nails grew darker while the skin along her finger continued to grow redder.

Yet, instead of the water burning her, her skin grew sensitive and cooler.  Quickly, Hermione pulled her hand away and hurried over to a large panel of mirrors, and what she saw astonished her. The first was that her hair had somehow become dry and lustrous, but with streaks of red, reddish-orange, and burgundy interwoven with a deep chestnut color. The colors were so brilliant and rich that it almost appeared as if parts of her hair were on fire. But that wasn’t the only noticeable change; her eyes had become orbs of flames that almost seemed to leap out from her sockets. Bemusedly lifting her hands, she noticed that all her nails had become black and sharp, claw-like.

However an even bigger change included not just her finger turning a deep, almost Gryffindor red, but the rest of her body as well. And it matched the swirls of black ink snaking up her arms, shoulders and torso so that it looked like some kind of giant tribal tattoo. Only these ‘tattoos’ continued to swirl, dip, and curl all along her skin. Additionally, her face had become more… delicate, almost catlike, but broader, like a big cat, and it was then that she noticed her teeth had also become sharper, she now had gleaming small fangs. Being the Guardian had enhanced her senses, in this new form, those senses became even more acute. Barely restraining herself from muffling her ears with her hands,  she realized could actually hear conversations taking place within the Great Hall, alongside the sound of clinking dishes and the sounds of food being eaten.

Shaking her head, she uttered a wordless _Silencio_ spell, giving her blessed relief.  Feeling the sensation of this new Animagus magic coursing through her veins, she focused on her wandless hand. Turning over to palm up, remembering the instructions from her Animagus lessons from McGonagall, the Guardian concentrated. But not too hard – she didn’t want to stress it, she listened to her body, to her magic, and as if something was racing along her veins, the magic that’d begun to physically manifest itself throughout the evening, crystallized. Forming one’s Animagus magic, discovering one’s Beast, Hermione learned was a bit like waddling through thick sludge, similar to working oneself from quicksand; you had to be methodical and careful. It was difficult to sort through all the clues, harder still to sift through all the muffled mess, until you began to receive _clues_. Yet, if you went too fast you could get sucked in and you’d lose the tiny thread, your body and magic locked into some unpleasant version of yourself.

Hermione suspected that her Beast was unlike any she’d ever heard of, a rare Magical Beast, a Fire Elemental. These latest clues were even more telling – yet confusing, because an Elemental wasn’t necessarily a Beast, more like chaotic Earth Magic. Deciding to test her theory, Hermione concentrated on an area on the palm of her hand, after a few moments a small ball of fire began to form in Hermione’s palm. An icy-hot, yet not altogether unpleasant sensation stung her palm below the orb. It began to confirm things for her. Still it also made her increasingly unsettled. The Beast chose the witch/wizard based on personality and character traits, and other unidentifiable things.  She knew little about Elementals, only that they were very rare, and often stayed away from the Wizarding world. Hermione also knew she had to get a handle on this new form and Its magic, because not having control of Elemental magic would have dire circumstances.

Closing her palm, Hermione concentrated once again, allowing the Elemental Beast to… simmer down, reverting her back to her human form. Shuddering and suddenly exhausted, she was instantly reminded of the fatigue she’d been trying to fend off, only this time it sunk deeper due to changing into her Animagus form. Marshalling her reserves, she shakily walked towards the powder room to grab her clothes. As she dressed, even though bone-tired, a tiny grin began to form on her face. _A Fire Elemental… how cool is that?!_ marveled Hermione. She couldn’t wait to tell McGonagall!

 


	39. Chapter 39

Animagus Interlude

 

***

Minerva had the unpleasant sensation of realizing that she’d been standing there with her mouth unattractively hanging open. Once she realized this she snapped it shut, blushing under the smirking gaze of one of her favorite Gryffindors.

“That should not be possible, Miss Granger!” Walking over to her table she grabbed her tin of ginger newts, offering one to Hermione who politely declined, Minerva suddenly craved a shot of firewhisky. “There are very rare instances throughout history where a wizard’s Animagus is a Magical Beast. However an Elemental is entirely different!”

She wanted the young witch to provide a demonstration, but she could literally smell the exhaustion oozing from her cub. Still feeling the effects of the Stunners at Dolores Umbridge’s hands, Minerva gingerly sank into her chair, gesturing for Hermione to sit in the one across from her. “You look exhausted my dear. I am going to excuse you from today’s lessons so that you may recover.” She held up a hand to hold off Hermione’s predictable protests.

“If what you’ve said is correct, the first few times changing into your Animagus form will be very tiring, leaving your magic vulnerable.” The Deputy Headmistresses’ gaze turned stern. “What you do not want Ms. Granger, is for a Fire Elemental to have Incidental magic. You body and magic needs time to recover. Correct? “

Sighing, Hermione nodded. “But Professor, how is this possible? Do you think it has something to do with my Guardian magic?”

“Have you consulted with your… Instructors?” Minerva was still coming to grips that Hermione had access to Merlin and a Founder. She desperately wished she could be allowed to interact with them, but as it stands, the magic only responds to Hermione or a Guardian House Elf.

“No Professor. I wanted to talk to you first because you are my mentor, not just my Animagus tutor, plus you **are** the foremost authority in Animagi Magic, and… I trust you.” She shyly finished.

Looking pleased, McGonagall, called for her House Elf, Elma. With a **_pop_** Elma appeared. Sneaking a look at Hermione before looking expectantly at Minerva, the elf thought about what was being said about the Granger witch. The Guardian Elves were legend and very rare. The last time one appeared in Hogwarts was many centuries ago. “How can Elma help youse Mistress McGonagall?”

“If you please, can you bring up some food and a spot of tea? Hermione?”

“Oh, that’s fine Professor. Thank you Elma.”

Elma nodded and snuck another longer, considering look at Hermione before popping away, only to return mere moments later, laden with a tea service tray, with piping hot tea. The small elf popped away again and returned once again, this time with a tray laden with thick sandwiches, slices of oranges, and two huge slices of chocolate cake. At the last item, Minerva gave an exasperated look at a sheepish Elma, who only shrugged.

“The Hogwarts Elves are happy to serve the Guardian.”

Rolling her eyes, Minerva simply sighed. “For Merlin’s sake, try to curb your enthusiasm in the future Elma. Thank you and that will be all.”

Barely stifling a grin, Hermione was immediately distracted by the growl let out by her stomach, reminding her of how little she’d eaten today. Minerva settled in, serving her remarkable Gryffindor. “Another side effect of your first change will be the need to constantly re-energize. Promise me you will not ignore what your body tells you – if you are hungry, eat. If you are tired, please rest. It will allow your body to adjust to your Beast a great deal quicker.”

As they consumed their lunch, Minerva’s brilliant mind struggled to remember everything she’d ever read about Elementals, and vowed to find as much information as soon as possible to aid her cub. “With your permission, I will consult with Professor Dumbledore as soon as he is available. In the meantime,” the older witch got up from her seat to disappear into her personal rooms, which held an impressive library. She returned moments with two medium-sized books, along with a thinner book.

She handed them over to Hermione. “In the meantime, within these books lies information regarding rare and Magical Creatures.”

Since learning has always been a priority for Hermione, she immediately put down the last bite of chocolate cake to begin perusing the books. “Thank you Professor.”

“It isn’t nearly enough, but hopefully it will provide some basic information, or at the very least a place to start until we talk to Albus or your Instructors.” Thinking for a moment, Hermione asked for some parchment and ink from the older witch. Scribbling a message on it, she then called for her Guardian Elf, Holly who appeared with a **_pop_** , wearing Guardian colors.

Holly bowed to McGonagall first, before focusing on her charge. “Greetings, the venerable Witch McGonagall. I knew your great-great-great grandmother. You have done your line well. How can I help you Guardian Granger.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione responded. “I’ve asked you to call me Hermione, Holly.” Shaking her head, she handed over the piece of parchment. “Can you please deliver this to Merlin and Helga immediately? And please let them know that I will be by at my usual time.”

Nodding, Holly prepared to **_pop_** away before Hermione’s voice stopped her. “Thank you, Holly.”

Once they were alone, Minerva refocused on the brown-haired witch. “Are you going to tell Harry and Ron?”

At that question, Hermione allowed her body to sink fully into her chair, weariness hanging on her like a cloud. “I—I… probably. It’s just that… there’s so much I haven’t told them! I wouldn’t even know where to begin! A-and I know Ron will be impossible about everything and Harry…,” she sighed, upset. “Harry has been distancing himself from me, from us, ever since Sirius died. I worry about him so much. He cannot do this alone, no matter how much he likes to think so!”

Hermione didn’t realize how much she’d been holding all this in, but it was like she’d suddenly had the attack of word-vomit. All these emotions, all these thoughts, the stress, the expectations felt like an elephant sitting on her back. Then there were her parents. She knew she’d have to find a way to protect them very soon; as best-friend to Harry Potter and Muggle-born witch, they’d likely be targeted. The fact is, between the trainings, her attempts to stay top in her class, her body adjusting to the new, powerful and pulsating magic coursing through her veins, all the while trying to keep Harry, Ron, and the rest of their friends safe, was taking an emotional toll on her.

McGonagall shifted forward in her chair, her expression filled with compassion and earnestness, she gently encased one of Hermione’s hands in hers. “Hermione, **you** cannot go through this alone. I know that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have a tendency to be rather… self-involved. But I believe that if you begin to share with them some of the changes you’ve been going through, they might surprise you.” Gently smiling, Minerva continued. “You are an extraordinary witch, Ms. Granger and I believe you have an important part to play within the war and within the Wizarding world. That, my dear, is a tremendous burden. Know that there are people who are there for you to help shoulder the load.”

Burnished, golden-brown eyes, grew watery with grateful tears. “Thank you Professor.”

“Now, rest up because I want to see this new Animagus form.”

Hermione grinned. “Well, it **is** rather spectacular.” 


	40. Chapter 40

Feeling Them in their Bones

 

Amelia Bones, probably the last honest employee of the executive branch of the Ministry, who also happened to be vocal in her opposition to Voldemort and his supporters, clung tightly to her niece Susan as streaks of red and green lights darted around them. At the moment they were still intermittent because of the wards guarding the Bones Manor, but it was clear that they were breaking under the steady assault of the Death Eaters. They had managed to set up Anti-Apparation wards and their floo network was down, ensuring that Amelia and Susan couldn’t escape. Those reasons, and that fact that with the soon-to-be booted Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge finishing up his last days, Amelia had been the obvious choice to succeed him. So Voldemort also had an interest in making sure Amelia never sat in the Minister’s seat.

As she tried to shelter Susan’s body from the flecks of debris and streaks of deadly light, Amelia desperately tried to figure out how to get help. But at the moment, all ideas escaped her, and while she mourned her own death, the Head of the DMLE knew that in her line of work, with her visible opposition to Tom Riddle, she’d been lucky to make it this far. She understood this… as she clutched Susan’s warm body against hers; Amelia absolutely despaired over Susan’s imminent demise. It was her responsibility to ensure that Susan’s well-being and safety.

They were the last of the Bones family.  Her brother, Susan’s father, Edgar, and mother had been killed during the last Wizarding war. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the stinging tears that threatened to join Susan’s sobs of terror.

Urgently cupping her hands along her niece’s cheeks, even as she ducked another streak of deadly light Amelia gently brought her forehead against Susan’s. “Susan. I want you to listen to me now. Whatever happens, know that I could never be more proud of the young woman you’ve become, and that me, your parents, our family, will always love you and be with you.”

The more her auntie spoke, the more that cold knot of dread grew. Her aunt was the ultimate, self-sacrificing hero, and Susan knew that she might be inclined to contrive some ridiculous scheme where upon it might give Susan a chance to live, while going towards her own certain death. Amelia had sent her _Patronous_ the moment the wards were attacked, but she was almost certain that the Death Eaters had planned for that. What Amelia didn’t know was that there had been some measures discreetly put in place, with the help of the Department of Mysteries, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and The Council to begin ferreting out possible Death Eater traitors. One of the duties of this joint task force was to monitor suspected Death Eater Ministry employees, as well as the few law-abiding, high-ranking Ministry employees, and the well-positioned Ministry employees who have access to essential information that might benefit Voldemort.

So when the monitoring charm for Amelia Bones lit up, indicating impending mortal peril, an alarm was sent up. As Amelia was protectively clenching Susan’s body to hers, letting a brief pained yell when a shard of wood pierced her upper-arm, Buffy was holding court in front of twenty well-trained Slayers and ten Wiccans, plus one Willow, meting out instructions before Willow erected a bubble. Meanwhile Faith, Aleki, Kisona, Bill Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt were running flat-out towards the edge of woods lining the Bones’ property.

Standing there were Mad-Eye Moody, Unspeakable Saul Croaker, Filius Flitwick, and Remus Lupin with wands at the ready. Behind them they could see the wards sputtering as more than a dozen dark-robbed individuals standing with wands emanating streaks of light, along with a few demons standing around the perimeter of the Bones’ manor waiting for the wards to fall. Croaker held up a hand, holding everyone in place, while Moody bristled impatiently beside him. Even Remus leaked out a deep growl, his wolf clamoring at the need for violence against those who threatened his Pack. Faith stood still, poised to strike, taut with tension, staring menacingly at the sight in front of her. Already she’d begun to partially Shift.

until a large blue orb appeared beside the group, that quickly became invisible to show Buffy, Willow, and many other young women bristling with Muggle weapons and intent to commit violence. Buffy simply nodded at her Sister-Slayer Faith before directing her attention to Moody and Croaker. “So what’s the what? Go in full-barrel or is this a search-and-destroy-along-the-way deal?”

“Amelia and her niece are in there. And not for long if we stand around here gabbing!” Moody insisted with a thump from his staff.

Faith quietly spoke as she still stared ahead, while tilting her head left and then right to loosen up the tense muscles. “Search-and-destroy all the fucking way! Susan is just kid!” Shaking her head, she looked back at the entire group. “No mercy, understand?! They’re not here to share knitting stories, they’re here to torture and kill, make no mistake. If possible, we go in with Slayer-wizard pairings, we fighting in pairs, one covering the other’s back. We go in hard and fast, protect yourselves at all times!” She looked at Moody, Remus, and Croaker who nodded or grunted (as in Moody’s case) in approval.

This time it was Kingsley who spoke. “Do we want one alive?”

“Only if they have something to share. If not, no mercy. This is war folks, don’t kid yourselves. Tonks, I’m gonna go with you to find the Bones family first. Kill whatever’s in your way.” Buffy held out her arm and called out her Scythe. Others soon followed; wands out, swords, knives, staves, and other assorted weapons clinked and scraped as they were readied. Buffy shared a look with Faith, both Chosen Slayers nodded and charged forward.

They were immediately met by horned demons, smelling of rotten eggs and death. Even worse they quickly discovered that their purple saliva was like acid. Buffy shouted, “Slayers! Take them apart and watch for the spit!”

Faith round-house kicked one demon to give her some distance from its spittle, she leveled her wand at its head and muttered _Sectumsempra_. She watched as an orange jet of light hit the neck of the demon and a slash of blood appeared. Unfortunately not enough to behead it, much less really harm it. Probably because of its skin was like that of an alligator. “Looks like I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

Faith retracted her wand as she ducked underneath one of its arms, and then swung upwards with her black sword, splitting the demon’s torso. Yellow goo splattered out, as the demon let out a roar to join the yells of its buddies. But Faith wasn’t done; she spun to give her velocity as she swung her sword into its neck, completely severing its head. She had just enough time to see Buffy disperse with her own demon, while Tonks dueled with a Death Eater who’d attempted to hit Buffy from behind.

However that duel ended when Rona launched throwing knife at his chest. They didn’t stick around to watch the surprise, followed by indignation at being killed by a simple Muggle.

Faith pushed Buffy towards the manor, shouting, “Go! I’ll take care of things here, and then me and Croaker will follow you!”

Buffy grabbed Tonks’ hand and charged up towards the front door just when the wards finally fell. Meanwhile Willow stood just at the edge of fighting, helping out when necessary because she was looking for the leader of this pack of deadly dicks, along with trying to pinpoint the location of the Bones’ family inside. Not to mention, she made sure no Death Eaters could escape. So far one had attempted to when they’d gotten nicked by a spell. So when he started to _Apparate_ away from the scene, Willow lifted a hand, chanting, and suddenly the Death Eater found himself stuck and frozen in place. Unfortunate for him, one of his compatriots had thrown himself to the side to avoid an oncoming _Avada Kedavra_ spell from Bill Weasley; instead it missed only to hit the frozen Death Eater behind him.

Yes, Willow could freeze everyone in place, allowing her to easily kill all the Death Eaters, but her first priority was the Bones’ family, followed by finding the Death Dick-in-charge. Finally, she found the magical life-signs of two people inside, with one growing fainter. She sent a message to Buffy, telling her the location of the Bones’ family, and that one of them must be severely injured.

{ _Let me know when you have them and then I’ll teleport them to the Council_.}

{Got it Will.}

{ _Oh, there might be some elves nearby who might attempt to make a last stand as some protection for the Bones’ ladies. Let me know if you have problems getting around them, and I’ll link em’ up with Amelia_.}

{Will do, Willow. Thanks.}

A yell from Willow’s left directed her attention to Arthur Weasley falling down as his wand flew from his hand. Two Death Dicks leveled their wands at him to finish him off, only to watch in horror as their wands grew soft and become ash before their eyes. Looking around wildly, they saw Willow give a mock wave, as both men experienced sudden intense pain before blacking out while their torsos exploded when Bill Weasley shouted _Reducto_ from behind them. A nod of gratitude from Bill allowed Willow to direct her attention elsewhere, particularly towards the impressive diminutive figure of Filius Flitwick who was busy mopping up the three Death Eater-Vamps; two were lit on fire, while the other was almost severed in half until FIlius charmed a nearby rock into an air-tight sarcophagus only with the remaining injured Death-Eater-Vamp locked inside.

Apparently he’d been partnered with Vi, who’d just staked a DE-Vamp. But even more interesting was watching Moody. For a wizard with one leg, a spinning eye, and part of his nose missing, he was utterly running through these vamps like tissue paper. He spun, jabbed, feinted, and thrusted his way through their enemies. It was clear that the Death Eaters were becoming scared and so many were now attempting to escape. Which is exactly what Willow had been waiting for.

One in particular, a rather muscular and tall Death-Eater – and he **was** a Death Eater, not a vampire. He began shouting as his cohorts. “Get back here you filthy shits! Form a defensive line!”

  
Willow headed towards him, coalescing her magic into an orb in her palm, her hair whipping around her face as if being blown by some invisible wind on this cold, starry night. Her eyes glowed white with rising power. When the Death Eater caught sight of Willow, she could see his eyes widen before narrowing, his wand erupted a purple light towards her. However when it reached Willow, she simply wiped it away into the ground with her free hand, leaving her unharmed.

Seeing how ineffective his first curse was, Rookwood lifted his wand to send another curse, only to watch in growing alarm when yet again, his curse was wiped away. Even worse he could feel the growing power from even twenty feet away, along with the brightening orb in her palm. With sweat dribbling down his back underneath his black robes and along his brow underneath his mask, he began to realize that aborting his mission might mean he’d live to see another day.

Looking around at his rapidly dwindling forces, he realized it was too late to save them. He cursed his luck in pulling this mission at the last minute. Yaxley had assured him that plans for this mission were practically fail-safe. But after Yaxley had been gravely injured during the DoM battle, followed by being Turned by the Dark Lord, Rookwood felt certain that the former Department of Magical Law Enforcement official’s attention to detail wasn’t up to snuff as it used to be.

Yaxley, and Fenrir’s replacement, a slim, yet vicious Werewolf named Henley were supposed to lead this mission. After all, Yaxley had bragged about how he had plans to give his former boss a “proper send-off” by having fun with her precious niece, before killing them. But as he was wont to do, the Dark Lord changed his mind at the last minute for reasons only he knew, and commanded Rookwood to lead the charge.

Rookwood also knew that to return meant certain death and torture, or torture before he was forced to be Turned for his failure. Untenable choices for anyone, but for Rookwood who had no illusions about serving the Dark Lord, even those choices gave him pause. Enough of a pause that it took him a few moments to acknowledge the tickle that grew into a sharp, deep pain as sparks of his magic began sputtering from his body. Needless to say he quickly refocused his attention on the red-headed, and wandless witch.

To be an Unspeakable required being the best and brightest, with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, along with the ability to keep it secret. Added the fact that he was a self-acknowledged psychopath; the ability to tear apart, destroy, or cause pain and terror were exhilarating experiences for him. He cared little for the whole blood supremacy nonsense. He was simply smart enough to know that the Dark Lord offered him an opportunity to overcome the fact that he was a pock-marked, poor, with no House affiliation, killer. It also helped that he was highly intelligent, finished near the top of his class at Hogwarts, and worked himself as a confidante to Head Unspeakable Croaker. Which is why he had no qualms about the change in plans of the mission, he knew that Croaker played mentor to Amelia, and to know that he would be responsible for killing the Amelia Bones, perhaps even kill her himself in front of Croaker, set Rookwood’s heart racing.

However it even took him a few moments before realizing that the sparks started to look like they were emitting from soldering, and that the pain was becoming excruciating. And that was when he began to understand that in fact, it was his magic leaving him. They planned on taking him as a prisoner to extract information! Frantically he tried to _Apparate_ only to have the pain ratchet up a notch, as his attempt fizzled away. He gritted his teeth against the need to yell, even howl at the sensation and deepening loss.

He fell to his knees, cursing his luck that the Dark Lord hadn’t Turned him yet because as he looked up at his red-haired nemesis, he would have enjoyed tearing into her throat. Even through the pain, it must have showed in his eyes because the witch punched him hard, knocking him onto his back.

“You’re a bad man. And not the kinky kind of bad, but like really dark, evil bad.” She stooped down to rip his mask off, pulling a disgusted face; she gripped his greasy hair, turning his face towards hers. “Hold still while I see what you’re hiding, shall we.”

After that the pain became so much that it practically immobilized him or perhaps it was the squeezing pressure-spell that Willow casted earlier.

Inside the Bones’ manor, Buffy and Tonks, after killing or fatally wounding three Death Eaters, Tonks began yelling out Amelia’s name, before Buffy gripped her wrist as she tilted her head slightly, mentally listening to where Willow was directing them. Nodding to herself, she looked at Tonks. “They’re in the bathroom, near the library, on the first floor.”

Buffy watched as Tonk’s hair shifted red before the witch dragged the Slayer down the hallway, coming to the second door, they practically exploded through into the library only to be met by two tiny house elves brandishing heavy cast-iron skillets. Skidding to a halt, Tonk’s hair shifting to purple, Buffy quickly disappeared away her Scythe, before holding her up hands in placation.

“Whoa! It’s ok! We’re the cavalry!”

“Youse not hurt Missus Amy and Missus Susie!” the female elf angrily screeched.

This time Tonks squatted down, shifting her hair back to blue. “Do you remember me? I’m Tonks, this is Buffy, and we work with your mistress. Can you please tell her that we’re here and if we can come to help her and Susan?”

The two elves shared a look before the male one popped away only to return a few moments later, his big floppy ears, hanging down. “Missus is hurt!”

Buffy allowed her eyes to glow golden, her inner-Slayer coming to the forefront, causing both elves to hiss in surprise. Both squeaked in fright. “Take us to her. The Slayer is here to protect the House of Bones.”

At that, the elves dropped the skillets, gently grabbed their hands, and popped them away directly inside the bathroom. Huddled on the floor, a floor that had become smeared with red from blood, were both Amelia Bones and Susan Bones. Amelia laid in her niece’s arms, barely conscious, pale, and listless. Startled Susan looked up at the sudden occupants in the room, her eyes red from crying. Shuddering and hiccupping from crying, she straightened, looking wide-eyed at the visitors. “Wh-who, Tonks! Auntie is hurt! And the stuff is upstai--”

Quickly Tonks rushed to her side, laying a gentle hand on her shoulders as she looked down at her boss. “Ok, hold on. Let’s get your aunt some help, yeah.” She redirected her attention to Buffy, who was staring off to the side as she telepathically communicated with Willow. “That’s Buffy, we’ve been working with your aunt, and she’s Faith’s friend.”

Sniffling, Susan nodded. She was terribly relieved that help was here, she’d been certain they wouldn’t live another hour. “Ok.”

Finally, Buffy shifted her attention to Susan and Tonks. “So, Willow is going to port you ladies to Council HQ, where a medical team will be waiting.”

Susan frowned in confusion. “Wh-what?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s kinda like your Apparrel-thingy, except Willow teleports.” At seeing the continued looks of confusion, Buffy huffed and attempted another explanation. “You know, you here one moment, and then gone somewhere else.”

A wet coughing-chuckle erupted from the barely conscious Amelia. “ _Apparate_. And I’m not leaving until you get Susan out of here first.”

Immediately Tonks and Susan started to protest, but Buffy cut them off. “Oh, that’s no problem. You’re all leaving at the same time.”

When the three Wizarding witches started to frown, Amelia’s was more of a grimace; Buffy was about to explain further until she saw a blue sparkles forming into an orb around the three women. So she satisfied herself with a grin and wave at the disappearing witches, relieved that they were able to save the Bones. 


End file.
